


Lyon

by TheBeardedOne



Category: Original Work, Science Fiction - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27743905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBeardedOne/pseuds/TheBeardedOne
Summary: In a war-torn future where genetic hybrids rule the battlefield, humanity finds a new weapon.
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a short one originally intended to be the basis for an extended version at a later date. Once written, however, it became clear that expanding this story while still maintaining the internal structure would be very difficult and beyond my current capabilities. This story has an ending that not only allows, but actually encourages the writing of a sequel. If the sequel is ever written, the effect of multi-species integration in a still partially race-segregated society would have to be considered, a task that would make any sequel far harder to produce.  
> TheBeardedOne.  
> 01/09/05
> 
> Second note - Oh my goodness, was I ever really this bad a writer?  
> Oh well. I'm placing it on-line so you lot can laugh at it.

The boy glanced warily at the intruders, easily spotting them despite their camouflage outfits. The words that they spoke carried no meaning for him.

" _Hey, sarge, no sign of anything here, looks like that was the last wyr-soldier platoon in this area._ "

The boy shrank further back into the undergrowth as the large men trooped nearer, remarkably silent despite their large boots and ungraceful movements.

" _What's that over there? Too small to be a beastie!_ "

" _Dunno. Mitsuragi, Simon, circle round and get behind it, wave when you're in position. The rest of you, skirmish line, we'll spook it into their hands. If it's a truebeast, let it go. If it's a G-Mutie, capture it._ "

The two smallest men split off and vanished while the rest spread out and hunkered down. The boy watched them carefully. Suddenly they stood up and marched towards him. Panicking, the boy retreated, straight into one of the two small soldiers. Caught in an iron grip, he started to struggle.

" _Hey, Sarge! Get over here! It's a wyr-soldier, but it's only a kid!_ "

The boy shrank against the soldier as the others surrounded him, wearing expressions that he could not comprehend. One of them, with a peculiar metal shape on his shoulder, bent down and peered at him.

" _Looks like a cat/human hybrid, see the pointy ears, slit pupils, tail and sharp fingernails? Probably retractable claws. No loyalty tattoo, must have escaped from the lab that was bombed yesterday. Too young for hypno-imprints, probably only several weeks old, force-grown, poor thing._ "

The one known as Sarge rummaged in a pocket and pulled out a ration bar. Unwrapping it, he took a bite out of it, then gave it to the boy.

" _Look at him wolf it down. Like a starving lion. Comm, report area six clear, one captive. No, make that one liberated victim. I kinda feel sorry for him. Tell Base that I'll adopt him, and I don't care what they say about that. I've got more bravery medals than they've had hot dinners, more contacts than they've got ribbons, and most importantly, I feel sorry for this kid._ "

The boy did not resist as the one who had given him the food scooped him up and held him against his chest.

" _What you gonna call him, Sarge?_ "

Sarge looked down at the small child curled up and almost asleep in his arms.

" _Well, he looks kinda like a young lion, with that mane of black hair, so I'll call him Lyon. Yeah, Lyon McKensie, that sounds good. Come on lads, let's get my new son back to base._ "


	2. Training

The recruits snapped to attention as the drill instructor marched into the square. The instructor stamped past each of them, glaring at them. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks and backtracked to one recruit, taller than the rest by about ten centimetres, with a build resembling a humanoid cat, and black hair almost making a mane round his cat-like face.

"What the hell are you, recruit?"

The recruit didn't even glance at him, showing incredible personal discipline.

"Sir. Recruit Lyon McKensie, Sir."

"Not the question I asked, recruit. What's a wyrbeast doing here?"

"He is not a Wyr-soldier, corporal. He only looks like one."

The drill instructor spun round, then snapped to attention, executing a perfect salute to the general who had appeared behind him.

"Sir! Permission to ask a question, Sir?"

"Permission granted, soldier."

The instructor paused for a second, trying to rephrase his question into terms polite enough for the tall general who stood in front of him. Before he could adjust the original question, the general interrupted him.

"You were querying Recruit Lyon McKensie's qualifications for joining the Special Anti-WyrMaster Service, especially considering that, at first glance, he is a Wyr-soldier himself?"

The corporal nodded, not trusting himself to stay in control if he spoke.

" Recruit Lyon McKensie has been interviewed, observed and tested by a specially-created committee, corporal. They reached the conclusion that, due to his upbringing and demonstrable loyalty to the non-adjusted humans, he is officially a de-facto and de-jure pure-human himself."

The corporal saluted.

"Thank you, sir! Recruits ready for speech, sir!"

The general returned the salute, then limped over to the podium standing in front of the recruits. Pulling himself up onto the platform, he gazed at the hundred new recruits arrayed in front of him.

"Recruits, welcome to Fort Stormwatch, your home for the next two years. You have applied for, and been provisionally accepted into one of the most elite units of the British/American army, the Special Anti-WyrMaster Service, or as it is more commonly known as, the SAWS.  
"The SAWS was first created fifteen years ago after the collapse of the United States Of Europe, and the rise of a new breed of warlord, who used force-grown Wyr-soldiers to impose their will and rule. SAWS was originally created to go protect England from the Wyr-soldiers terrorizing it. Five years ago, that mission changed, and now they are the spearhead of our army. Within twelve months of their mission profile changing, the SAWS forces managed to capture the city of Dunkirk, and establish a beach-head, although the ferocity and boosted abilities of the Wyr-soldiers arrayed against them has created a near-permanent stalemate, and has continued to do so for the past four years.  
"You are here because you wish to make a difference and you shall. Once you have proved beyond doubt that you can be a SAWS. soldier, you will be sent first to Britain, then to Europe, to battle, and defeat the Wyr-soldiers of the WyrMasters. If you do not prove your ability at this camp, you will instead be transferred to an elite regular army unit. Any questions?"

After a minutes silence, the general smiled.

"You have your bunk-room assignments, go settle in, and report for parade tomorrow at six A.M. Dismissed."

The parade of cadets saluted, did a smart right-turn and then broke into small groups as they left the parade square. Lyon McKensie walked alone.

.

"... a wyr-beast. What are the High Command thinking, letting a stinking wyr-beast enrol, as if it was human?"

Lyon heard the argument as clearly as if it was taking place in the bunk-room, rather than at the end of the corridor. He smiled grimly as the tirade continued.

"And to add to that, we get stuck in the same bunk-room as that stinking beastie. It will probably kill us all while we sleep, and then run off like the cowardly beastie it is. The only good beastie is a dead beastie."

Lyon twitched one pointy ear slightly to hear better while he pulled a small picture out of his bag. Turning it over, he looked at the likeness of Sergeant Garath McKensie.

"That's right, Mark. Our only chance is to get it to lose control, so that we can get it thrown out of the Service, or preferably shot. I'm sure all the others will agree."

"Not Alan Redstorm. I've overheard him say that he thinks that the beastie is extremely brave to enlist. We'll have to watch him, he may be a beast-lover."

Lyon raised one brow. Alan Redstorm a possible friend? The tall, haughty Native American Indian? He'd have to tread carefully to avoid antagonising his one possible ally. The voices rose in volume as the three recruits approached the door.

"We'll have to be careful, though. If it finds out what we're doing, it will want revenge. Act innocent while we're around it, so it won't suspect anything."

The voices stopped as the three reached the door, then it opened and they walked in, faces carefully neutral as they saw the room's occupant.

"Hiya, Lyon. See you got here before us. You chosen your bunk?"

Lyon stood up, negligently flexing his muscles.

"No. these beds are too soft for me, I'm going to sleep outside on the hard earth, where I'll be more comfortable and relaxed."

Striding to the door, he paused with one hand on the door handle.

"After all, we wouldn't want to risk me having a bad dream, killing all of you in your sleep, then running away like a cowardly beastie that some mistake me for, would we? Or you mistakenly believing that the only good beastie is a dead beastie."

As he strode down the passage, grinning, Lyon heard one of the recruits mutter frantically, "It has to be a coincidence. Only a coincidence. A hell of a coincidence. Oh shit, oh shit ohshit ohshitshitshiiit..."

From the shelter of the doorway opposite, Alan Redstorm watched Lyon walk down the passage, his expression inscrutable.

.

"Alright cadets, Rise and shi-iiiine!"

The Drill Instructor's bass voice sliced through the building, shocking all the recruits awake. Outside, Lyon gracefully dropped from the branch of a tree and loped inside. Entering his room, he opened his locker and grabbed a change of clothing, ignoring the semi-frightened glances of his pseudo-roommates, before re-locking his locker and loping to the washroom. Finding a free shower cubicle, he stripped off and switched on the shower, relaxing as the water soaked his body-fur against his skin. Quickly he washed himself, then stepped out, grabbing a towel and wrapping it round himself. Giving himself a quick but brisk shake to rid his body-fur of most of the water, he grabbed a smaller towel from the rack and used it to dry himself off before he turned and reached for his clothes.

They were gone.

Lyon bent down to where his clothes had been and breathed deeply, catching a slightly familiar scent. He straightened up, sniffed the air experimentally, then spoke.

"Alan Redstorm, I assume that you have a good reason for moving my clothes?"

An amused snort sounded from behind him, then Alan entered the washroom.

"I am impressed. I know that you could not have seen me, and even your hearing could not have I.D'd me. Your clothes are in my room, I thought that you would like some privacy to change. For some reason, I managed to get a whole room to myself, the others moved out. Probably because of my views."

Lyon nodded slowly.

"Yes. You apparently expressed admiration at my bravery in joining, despite appearing to be a Wyr-Soldier. I assume that this is a test of some sort."

Alan Redstorm nodded.

"Yes. And you passed with flying colors. How did you know?"

"I _nose_ these things."

Alan groaned at the bad pun.

.

The drill instructor paced alongside as the recruits scrambled under the net. As he had half expected, Lyon was leading the field, being almost as comfortable on all fours as on only two feet, but Alan Redstorm was nearly level with him as they exited the net and half ran, half staggered to the tram-wires. He turned his attention back to the other recruits.

"Come on, children, Put your backs into it! This is the army, not an art school! You are here to learn to be the best, so come on!"

Turning, he saw Alan move out on the tram-wires, followed closely by Lyon. Then he spotted the grease on the wires. Before he could shout a warning, Alan hit the grease and slipped, falling headfirst towards the hard ground below.

.

Alan panted as he hauled himself up onto the frame, exerting himself to move ahead of Lyon. Reaching the wires an instant before Lyon, he hauled himself on, hooking his knees over the wires to hold himself steady, while using his arms to pull him along. He glanced back at Lyon, a mere metre behind him, then suddenly his hands skidded forwards, pitching him off-balance. Attempting to recover, Alan only managed to dislodge himself completely, falling towards the hard, unforgiving ground. As he braced himself for impact, a hand suddenly grabbed his ankle, turning his uncontrolled plummet into a long swing. Looking up, he saw Lyon holding onto him with one hand, while holding onto the left wire with crossed ankles. Glancing down, he saw the rocky ground just over two metres beneath him.

"Grab my hand, I'll pull you up."

Alan twisted and managed to grab Lyon's spare hand. Lyon released his ankle and managed to twist in such a way that he was able to almost hook his fingers over the other wire. Alan froze as Lyon's fingernails suddenly extended into claws, which snagged the line. A few seconds later, Lyon's muscles tensed and bulged as he hauled Alan up one-handed, lifting him to the height of the wires, just past the greasy area, his mouth pulled back in a sharp-toothed grimace with the effort. Hooking his knees over the wires, Alan released Lyon's hand and grabbed the tram-wires in the same movement, then realized that he was facing the wrong way. He looked at Lyon, who was also dangling upside down from the wires.

"Back away from me, you only have a metre to go to the other platform. I'll follow. Go!"

Alan slid back carefully until his feet bumped into the promised platform. Wriggling backwards, he slid his feet, then his legs onto the platform, before launching himself into a sitting position and rolling sideways onto solid wood. As he collapsed onto the wood, weak with delayed shock, he saw Lyon grab the edge of the platform with one hand, his claws gouging deep holes in the wood, then somersault off the wires, landing softly on the platform in a semi-feral crouch.

.

"What the hell happened to those tram-wires?"

The drill instructor paced along the line of recruits while, to one side, Lyon and Alan exchanged amused glances.

"If anything like that happens again, I swear that I will personally ensure that the entire class goes to hell and back, twice! Who was responsible for the sabotage?"

The recruits just stared ahead, not speaking.

"Right. Okay, conspiracy of silence. All of you, twelve mile run, round the camp four times. Go!"

The recruits set off. Lyon absently twitched one ear to listen to them, but they kept silent until they exited his hearing distance.

"Now for you two. Recruit Alan Redstorm, it has come to my attention that you have managed to gain a bunk-room to yourself. This is unacceptable. I am hereby re-assigning Lyon McKensie to be your roommate. Help him to move his stuff, then report back here at fifteen hundred hours. Move!"

Alan and Lyon saluted the drill instructor, then trotted over to the barracks. As they went through the door, Alan spoke.

"I never thanked you properly for saving me. According to the customs of my people, I now owe you a great debt, that I am not sure that I can repay."

Lyon nodded slowly.

"Your friendship and respect is more than enough."

Alan shook his head.

"No it isn't. I don't know what is."

Lyon opened the door to his room, and looked in shock at the open locker, and the ripped clothes that were scattered on the floor. Stepping forward, he reached down and picked up a small picture from the wreckage of its frame. Alan caught a glimpse of an old man in a wheelchair as Lyon carefully unfolded the crumpled, torn picture.

"Who is that? A friend?"

"My father. He found me near Dover, just after the last Battle of the Cliffs. To him, I was the son that he never had. I owed him everything."

"Is he . . . . dead?"

Lyon nodded, an unshed tear glistening in his eye.

"Yes. He died just after I enrolled in the S.A.W.S. If it wasn't for his efforts, and those of his friends in the squadron, I would have been denied the chance to enlist. I never forgot the look on his face when I was accepted. Joy. Joy, that I was making my true way in the world at last, and a bit of sorrow, that I would have to kill while following my own destiny."

Alan looked closely at Lyon, catching a glimpse of carefully suppressed emotion.

"You really loved him, didn't you."

"Yes. He was always larger than life to me. My first memory of him is him giving me a ration bar, and seeing in me my humanity, despite my . . ."

"Modifications?"

Lyon nodded as he started to gather his torn clothes and broken belongings.

"A good a word as any, I suppose. Yes, I loved him, and he loved me. He took a small, wild half-cat, and taught it what it was to be human. He taught me to believe in my humanity, even when others denied it, but also to acknowledge and use my differences. When he died, I was at his side. As were the members of his squadron. His last words to me were 'Remember, my son, you will always be human. Let no-one tell you otherwise.' Even when dying, he was still wiser than I could ever be."

Rising, Lyon backed out of the room, and strode to Alan's room. Entering it, he walked over to the free bunk bed and deposited the rags on the bottom bunk before hauling the mattress off the top bunk and stowing it underneath the bottom bunk. Hauling himself up, he sat on the bare metal slats, then lay back and stared at the ceiling. Alan walked over to him.

"The other members of your father's squadron?"

Lyon blinked, then smiled.

"My uncles? They still live, and most of them still serve in the army. They held a party for me the day after I was accepted. In some strange way, they are proud of me. I never understood why, but I accept it. The day I understand, I will be truly human."

Alan nodded, then moved to his own bunk.

"For what it's worth, I believe that you are already a true human."

"Thank you."

The two of them sat in the silent room.

.

"The half-year reports, Sir!"

The general skimmed the files, pausing a couple of times, then looked up at the drill instructor.

"So, Lyon McKensie and Alan Redstorm work well together, do they? Very promising. This is one team-up that we should encourage. Corporal, would you say that the trainees are ready for their first proper training assignment?"

.

"Rise and Shi-iiine! Uuup and Aaaat'em. Move it!"

Alan hauled himself to the edge of his bed and noted with a wry smile that Lyon had managed to leap out of bed and had started getting dressed before he could even open his eyes. Standing up, Alan staggered over to his locker and pulled a clean uniform out of it, pulling it on with one hand while trying to stop his yawns with the other. By the time he had pulled his uniform on, Lyon had got dressed, brushed his mane and was remaking his bunk.

"Slow down a bit, willya? You're making me feel like a shirker."

Lyon gave him a quick grin, then pulled two haversacks out from the shared cupboard and started packing them with survival gear.

"Whatcha doin dat for?" yawned Alan as he reached for his brush.

"Don't you remember? Survival course begins today. One hundred miles in the wild, with just us and what we can carry."

Alan blinked as the memory presented itself. Hauling his brush quickly through his hair, he grabbed a leather tie and used it to secure his hair into its customary ponytail. As he did that, Lyon started winding a leather strip round his forearm.

"What's tha . . . oh, a sling. Good thinking. I'll get mine. Combat knife?"

Lyon reached out without looking and grabbed Alan's knife. Alan took it from him and strapped it to his right shin.

"Okay. You've packed the bags, we've got our knives and slings. First aid kit? Torches? Matches? Map? Emergency rations?"

"All packed."

"Water canteens?"

Lyon glanced up at him, then smote himself with his palm.

"I knew I'd forgotten something."

Alan rooted through the locker and pulled out four belt-mounted flasks.

"Let's fill these up and get on parade."

.

The drill instructor noted with dry amusement that Alan and Lyon were the first two on parade by several minutes. As the others came out, they stared at the two recruits, cursed and ran back into the barracks, where he could hear them scrabble through their stuff and could just make out shouts of "My rucksack? Where is it?", "Anyone seen my knife?" and "My helmet's missing!" After giving the other recruits ten minutes, he waded into the barracks and turfed them out, sending them onto parade. Striding out, he glared at them, noting that only Alan and Lyon seemed to be properly prepared.

"Okay you horrible lot, listen up. Today, we are going to take you to a point one hundred miles due north. The first team of two to get back wins a twelve-day leave, the others have to do it again. There are no roads, rails or airports north of here, so you will be going through wilderness. Each of you will be given a compass, water bottle, basic rations and can use whatever you managed to grab. We leave in three minutes, so let's get to the copter pad now! MOVE!"

.

As the sound of the copters faded into the distance, Alan and Lyon started loping to the edge of the clearing. None of the other recruits noticed as they faded into the undergrowth.

"Optimistically, we can cover thirty-five miles a day if we really push it. I think we should go due south, straight line."

Lyon shook his head, his mane swaying with the motion.

"There's a river two miles east, flowing southwards. It's the same one that flows a mile past our training camp, according to the maps. Fast current, one stretch of rapids, nothing bad. What do you think?"

Alan gazed at him in amazement.

"Raft?"

Lyon nodded.

"Let's go!"

Behind them, sudden crashing sounds marked the exit of the other recruits from the clearing.

.

With a drawn-out creak, the tree topped down. With a grunt, Lyon managed to lift it and carry it to the river bank, where Alan was building the raft.

"Last one?"

Alan nodded and returned his attention to tying the vines round the double-thickness raft. Lyon extended his claws and slashed the branches from the trunk before lifting it into position so that Alan could tie it into place.

"Well, we spent half a day on this, but it should get us back far ahead of the others. Shall we?"

Together, they heaved the raft into the fast-flowing water, then scrambled onto it. Alan hefted a pole and used it to push the raft into the centre of the current. Lyon grabbed the other pole and moved to the back. Extending his toe-claws into the wood for balance, he started to pole the raft along, moving it faster along the river.

"Have we got room to set up the tent?"

Alan spun round and stared at him.

"You packed a tent?!"

"Standard two-person dome-tent, with stakes and collapsible poles. Attached to the bottom of my bag."

Alan turned and looked at the two bags in the center of the raft. Sure enough, one of them had a bundle tied to the bottom that he recognised as a dome-tent in its collapsed state.

"I see it. And the stakes will hold it steady if I hammer them into the wood. You keep us in the current and I'll erect it."

Lyon smiled and returned his attention to the task of navigating the river.

.

The general looked at the large real-time satellite-view picture on the wall-screen. Using his controls, he isolated a small portion of the picture and enlarged it.

"Do you see it?"

The corporal nodded. The oblong raft, and its two occupants, occupied almost a quarter of the metre-high screen. Despite the top-view and pixellation, the two occupants were easily recognizable as Redstorm and MacKensie.

"You know, this is probably the most intriguing side-stepping of the rules since Garath McKensie managed to smuggle a collapsible para-troop motorbike to the landing area just before he went on the Trek."

Not trusting himself to speak, the corporal just nodded. The general smiled.

"I think that we have just found the two most likely candidates for the S.A.W.S. Corporal, when they get to the Kingswood rapids, have a rescue team stand by, but keep them hidden unless Recruits Redstorm and McKensie get in real danger."

.

As the sun rose, the door-flap of the dome-tent opened and Lyon crawled out clad only in a pair of swimming trunks. Moving to the edge of the raft, he stared into the water for a few minutes before diving in, claws extended. The noise and subsequent rocking woke Alan, who in turn crawled out of his sleeping bag and retrieved the camp-cooker and the metal shield/plate that it rested on. Setting them up on the raft, he lit the cooker and pulled out a tin bowl and a fish-fat candle as Lyon re-appeared round the corner of the river, holding a large trout in each hand and another in the curl of his tail.

"Frying this morning, we have fish, fish or fish."

Alan grinned. "Then I'll be adventurous and go for the fish."

Lyon laughed and dropped the fish into the tin bowl as Alan sliced off a chunk of the candle and let it fall into the bowl before quickly cutting the fish in half length-ways.

"You cook, and I'll cast off."

At Alan's nod, Lyon moved to the back of the raft, being careful not to rock it. Untying the rope that was attached to the raft, he quickly pulled it over the branch that it had been looped round, and coiled it up. Picking up the pole, he carefully nudged the raft into the middle of the river, away from any rocks.

"I slept like a log last night. Not surprising, after those rapids. They looked calmer on the map."

Concentrating on the frying fish, Alan nodded. Lyon navigated round a partially-overgrown rocky outcrop before sniffing at the delicious odor coming from the bowl.

"How's the fish coming?"

"Done."

Alan carefully turned the camp-cooker off and flipped the fish into two tin plates. Picking up the higher-stacked plate, he passed it across to Lyon before attacking the other with his knife. Lyon unfolded a small map and placed it on the raft, with small items holding down each corner, before he started eating his fish. Alan leaned over for a better look.

"According to the map, and our speed, we should be back at the base tonight sometime. Unless the others can cover as much ground as we have, the twelve-day leave is as good as ours."

Lyon shook his head.

"No. The others think only in rules and regulations. The notion of detouring to save time won't occur to them until they hit the ravine that we went through yesterday. Even then, they'll probably try to resume their original course."

"So, when do we abandon raft?"

"Well, according to the map, our closest point will be marked by a capped rock on the left. At that point we beach the raft, pack the tent and trek one mile south-west back to the base. If the current doesn't slow, and I am reading the map correctly, we should arrive at the rock at about sixteen hundred hours, give or take an hour."

Alan nodded, then grabbed his pole and used it to push the raft away from some semi-submerged rocks.

"Four Pee Emm, large capped rock. Only ten more hours to go until we leave the raft, and fifteen minute stroll back to base. We'll be back in time for tea."

"Good thing too," growled Lyon. "I'm starting to get tired of fried fish for breakfast and rabbit stew for supper."

.

The gatehouse loomed ahead of them as they jogged towards it. In the sentry booth, a soldier looked at them, and started in astonishment as they approached. Reaching the gate, they stopped and saluted.

"Recruits Alan Redstorm and Lyon McKensie reporting back from the Trek, Sir. Request permission to enter the base."

The soldier frowned with disgust.

"Permission granted, recruits. I just lost a week's wages on you, I bet that you wouldn't be back until dawn tomorrow. Hell, no-one thought you could get back before then. You know the drill, go in and report to the general's office."

The gate opened and Alan and Lyon marched through.

"Dawn tomorrow, huh? Possible, but it would have left us absolutely shattered. Still, it's nice to know that we can surprise our peers. The Admiral will be astonished to see us here."

Alan nodded in agreement as they reached the general's office. Lyon knocked twice on the door.

"Come in!"

Opening the door, Lyon followed Alan through. The general glanced up at them from behind his desk.

"Ah, Recruits Alan Redstorm and Lyon McKensie. Enjoy your river-cruise?"

Lyon's mouth fell open in shock while beside him Alan went pale.

"Sir. How did you . . ?"

The general smiled.

"Look behind you."

Lyon spun round and saw the large screen showing a picture of their raft traversing the rapids.

"A Recon-bird over the training area."

The general nodded.

"Very good, Lyon. Very good. You both get a commendation for original thinking, and a twelve-day leave pass, effective from tomorrow at twelve-hundred hours. Just a couple of questions. Who came up with the idea of a raft?"

Lyon nodded in answer.

"Did you build it by yourself?"

Alan spoke up.

"Sir, Lyon harvested the wood and vines, and I put it together. It was a team effort, sir."

The general nodded again.

"Good. Go get washed and changed, then report to the mess hall. And congratulations, you've just beaten Garath McKensie's record by six hours."

Lyon looked at him.

"He used a small parabike that he smuggled onto the helicopter. Said he preferred to keep the scales tipped in his favor. Now go on, you young hellions, and report back to me at eleven-hundred hours tomorrow morning"

Lyon and Alan saluted, then quickly exited the room.

.

Mark and his partner Leopold staggered towards the base, which was glinting in the dawn-light. Reaching the gate, they managed to salute the sentry and stagger through to the parade ground, where they dropped their bags and collapsed onto them. Looking at each other, they broke into wide grins.

"We did it! The pass is ours!"

"Hate to disappoint you, but you're seventeen hours too late."

The grins faded from Mark and Leopold's faces as they looked towards the Barracks, where Lyon and Alan, immaculately groomed, lounged against the wall. Leopold groaned and fell backwards off his rucksack and onto the ground while Mark levered himself onto his feet and staggered over to them.

"How. . .how. . ."

Alan grinned.

"American-Indian know-how and unique thought processes from Lyon."

Mark felt his legs start to give way and he almost fell.

"Damn."

He staggered over to where Leopold lay and collapsed beside him.

"Leo?"

"Huh?"

"Will you do me a favor?"

"Wha'?"

"Don't mention this day to me again."

"Uh-huh."

Alan and Lyon grinned at each other, then walked past the prone recruits, heading for the mess hall. Unnoticed, the admiral looked out of his window and smiled wryly.


	3. Family

The old shaman lifted his head and listened for the sound that had intruded on his meditations. Listening hard, he soon heard it again, the sound of approaching engines. Rising effortlessly, despite his age, he strode to the door of his hut. Opening it, he stepped outside and turned slowly, scanning the horizon. As he turned, he saw two dots approaching from the north.

Unhurriedly, the old man walked back into the hut to remove the ceremonial tomahawk from its place on the wall. Tucking it into his belt, he then returned to his position outside the hut, pausing only to collect a bow and six arrows. Planting five arrows headfirst into the ground, he casually notched the sixth one to his bow and waited as the two dots turned into rapidly approaching motorbikes. As he watched, one bike suddenly veered off course and used a partially-buried log as a ramp, soaring into the air and landing with a unique flourish. The shaman smiled in recognition of the rider and placed his bow by the door before leaning against one of the porch pillars. The two motorbikes stopped in front of him in showers of dirt, and the smaller rider pulled off his helmet.

"Granddad!"

The shaman smiled again.

"Alan Redstorm. It is good to see you."

Alan grinned and got off his bike.

"Lyon, this is my Grandfather, Greystorm. Granddad, this is my friend, Lyon."

Greystorm nodded slowly to the helmeted Lyon, who nodded back at him.

"Does your friend have a disfigurement, that he keeps his face hidden?"

Alan suddenly looked worried.

"Granddad, listen. Lyon is a good friend, and I owe him a debt. He saved me during training, although the accident was aimed at him. He may look different, but he is as human as you or I. Do you understand?"

Greystorm glanced at Lyon, his mind working fast as he added up all the facts and dredged up old memories. A sudden realisation suffused his features.

"Ahhhh. So, your friend is the Wyr-soldier who is human, Lyon McKensie, the honor-son of the famed Garath McKensie. I understand, Alan. Lyon, you are welcome in my house. My axe is at your service."

Lyon nodded again, then removed his helmet, shaking his head to let his mane flow in the light breeze. Swinging off his bike, he strode up to where Alan and Greystorm were standing.

"It is an honor to meet the grandfather of my closest friend."

Greystorm smiled.

"Thank you, Lyon. Please, come inside. I have a rabbit stew on the fire, I can add more meat to let it feed all of us."

Alan and Lyon groaned.

"Is there something wrong?"

.

"So, did you enjoy the meal?"

Alan lay sprawled in one of the two chairs in the main room of the hut while Lyon lay bonelessly near the fireplace. He managed to turn his head to watch his grandfather for a few seconds before answering.

"Yes. I don't know how you did it, but that rabbit stew tasted better than any I have eaten in the last week."

"It is all in the herbs." said Greystorm as he took the other chair. "If you had paid attention when you were a child, you would know how to do it yourself."

Lyon cocked an ear back in interest while Alan reddened slightly.

"I was young then."

"Ahhh. And I suppose that I am as old as the hills, and have never known the joys of youth?"

Alan's face burned at Greystorm's dry statement.

"That is not what I meant!"

"I know. I have not lived for over seventy winters without learning the ways of reading people from what they say, and do not say."

Silence filled the hut for several minutes before Greystorm spoke again.

"From how you acted when you came here, using the old tree as a launching ramp, I assume that you have some important news for me?"

Alan smiled.

"Grandpa, Lyon and I have been accepted into the S.A.W.S."

Greystorm nodded.

"I suppose that you managed to find some way of altering an unusual situation to your advantage using tactics best described as dubious?"

Lyon slitted one eye open and fixed Greystorm with a curious stare.

"The S.A.W.S are an elite team that function in hostile territory. They need to be able to think in directions that their opponents cannot anticipate. That is what your father told me, Alan, just before he retired due to his injury. What did you do?"

Lyon spoke up.

"We used a raft to ease a hundred mile trek, and did it in under three days. It wasn't easy, but it sure was fast at times."

Greystorm nodded again.

"Yes. You used the country to aid you. That is good. I expect that tomorrow you will be leaving, so for tonight let me extend my house to you, although I fear I only have one spare bed."

Lyon grinned.

"Alan can use it. I can only sleep on hard surfaces, such as the floor, solid rock or sheets of metal."

.

The roars of the two bikes stopped, although the sound echoed from the headstones for a few seconds before fading away. The silence was only broken by two sets of footsteps as Lyon and Alan slowly walked through the graveyard. As they reached one gravestone, Lyon stopped and knelt down, producing a bunch of fresh flowers while Alan, mindful of Lyon's privacy stepped back a few paces.

"Father, I promised that I would return. And I have. I hope that you reached paradise and that you are happy there, even though I miss you. You were the only true family that I had, and I never managed to tell you what you meant to me. I cannot tell you now, for words cannot do it justice. Father, I miss you."

Alan watched his friend remain motionless for a few more minutes, then Lyon rose and walked back to him.

"I thank you for coming with me. I appreciate it."

Alan nodded.

"It must be hard for you. I know that I would be devastated if my dad died, and I bet that you two were closer than my dad and I."

"Perhaps."

Without any further words, the two got onto their bikes and rode off, leaving behind a bunch of flowers waving in the sighing breeze.

.

The roars of the two bikes stopped, although the sound echoed from the buildings for a few seconds before fading away. Several small children playing in front of the large house looked up at the two bikers, squealing with delight as one of them removed his helmet and shook out his hair.

"Alan! Aaalllaaannn!"

Alan managed to dismount just in time to meet a veritable wave of children. Kneeling down, he returned hugs and kisses impartially before managing to regain his feet, despite the three kids hanging from his neck and arms. Gently unhooking them, he turned to face Lyon.

"Well, what did I tell you? No manners at all. Just spot, and charge."

Lyon turned his head slowly, taking in the crowd of kids staring at him.

"I never believed you when you said you had eleven siblings. I still don't, as there are _fifteen_ here."

"Well, they're not all mine. Come on in. Hey, kids, where's mum and dad?"

Without further prompting the horde of kids rushed into the house, while Alan and Lyon followed behind at a sedate pace.

"You can take off your helmet now, I told my family all about you in a letter over six months ago."

"Yes, but I feel more comfortable wearing it. It makes me seem less inhuman than going bare-headed."

"Yeah, and I suppose that you think that everyone will believe that you wear furry skin-tight gloves as well? Lyon, relax. The worst that can happen is that a three-year old will decide to explore your mane. That's all."

"That's enough to convince me to keep my helmet on."

Alan laughed as they entered the house.

"Mum! Dad! Hello! I'm back!"

Lyon stood back as Alan waded through the kids, embraced his mother, and then bowed formally to his father.

"Mum, Dad, may I present my friend Lyon MacKensie, who I have written so much about. Lyon, this is my mother, Elissa, and my father, Blackhorse."

Blackhorse limped forward, a smile flitting over his craggy features.

"You need not worry about us believing you are not human, Lyon. Alan explained about you in his letters, generally using the phrases strong, reliable, intelligent, honorable and so on. Our house is your house, Lyon McKensie. Welcome, and please make yourself at home. Alan, we have put the spare mattress in your room, and moved John out."

Lyon slowly undid his helmet and removed it while Blackhorse spoke. Turning back to face the room, he was caught unawares by a small kid leaping into his arms, babbling with excitement.

"Ohwowyou'reLyonMckensiehowdoyoudoI'mRichardAlan'syoungestbrothertheycallmelionheartand. . ."

"Easy. Slow down, and treat our guest with respect."

At Blackhorse's gentle rebuke, Richard flushed and tried again.

"I'm Richard, Alan's youngest brother. They call me Lionheart because I'm not afraid of anything. Do they call you Lionheart as well?"

"No. I am just Lyon."

Alan strode over and carefully removed Richard from Lyon, placing him gently on the floor.

"Go and play, squirt. You can have a chance to talk over tea. Go on."

Richard turned and ran outside followed by all the others. Lyon twitched an ear and heard him shout, "No, I want to be like Lyon. If we're playing muties and S.A.W.S, I'm Lyon!"

"Well, that's at least one convert you've made."

Lyon turned his head and fixed Alan with a glare.

"What _exactly_ have you been telling them about me?"

.

". . . and then Lyon heard a sentry call out that someone was coming. We walked outside and leaned against the wall just before Mark and Leopold staggered into the parade square and collapsed. Leopold said 'We've done it, the pass is ours!' and I replied 'Hate to disappoint you, but you're seventeen hours too late.' Mark pulled himself upright, staggered over to us and went 'How. . . how. . ." before giving up, staggering back to his bags and collapsing on them."

To illustrate his story, Alan assumed a dejected pose, then flopped bonelessly onto the settee. Blackhorse and Elissa rocked with suppressed laughter while the young kids rolled about on the floor, chortling.

"Well, that's you brought up to date. What's been going on here?"

As Elissa leaned forwards and started speaking, Lyon sensed a small body haul itself up beside him. Turning slightly, he looked down into Richard's upraised face.

"Mr Lyon, Mum and Dad read most of the letters to us, but they refused to read a couple of them that explained what you were. What are you, as well as being human, I mean?"

Lyon contemplated the question for a few minutes while Elissa regaled Alan with a story about a sister who was suddenly showing an interest in boys.

"I was born a Wyr-Soldier, or would have been, but the Lab in which I was created got bombed before I could undergo certain operations designed to turn me into a true Wyr-Soldier. I managed to escape from the ruins of the lab, and wandered into the surrounding woods, where I was found, and subsequently adopted by my father, Garath McKensie. He raised me as a true-human, while others would have denied me that chance."

Richard's face closed as he thought hard about the answer.

"So, you're a Wyr-Soldier by birth, but a human by upbringing. How many more are there of you?"

"None that I know of."

Richard thought long and hard before speaking up again.

"Do you ever miss having brothers or sisters?"

Lyon paused, then looked down at him.

"No, because I never had them, so I do not miss them. You cannot miss what you never had. I do, however, have several uncles who almost spoiled me rotten, so that is some consolation, I suppose."

"Where are they now?"

"When Garath first found me, he was the oldest by over twenty years. My uncles still serve in the S.A.W.S, and I write to them regularly."

Richard looked up at him.

"Did you really save Alan's life?"

"I am not sure that I saved his life, but I certainly stopped him from being severely injured several times."

Richard nodded to himself, then hugged Lyon.

"I'll be your younger brother if you'd like."

Lyon glanced up and saw Blackhorse covertly watching him, with a small smile of approval.

"Thank you, Richard. I would be honored to have an honor-brother as brave as you are."

Richard smiled, then snuggled against Lyon's side.

.

Alan woke up as the sunlight lanced through the curtains and fell onto his face. Rolling over, he glanced at the place where Lyon had gone to sleep the previous evening, and froze as he saw just rumpled sheets. Sitting up, he flipped open the curtains and looked outside, wincing against the brightness of the morning sun. Looking down, he spotted both motorbikes, but no sign of Lyon. Hauling himself out of bed, he pulled on a pair of jeans and staggered downstairs. Glancing into each room, he stopped at the living room, spotting the open patio doors. Walking over to them, he looked out, and spotted Lyon, exercising with someone. Approaching silently, he soon recognized the smaller person as Richard. Stopping on the edge of the lawn, he sat in the shade of a bush, watching and listening as Lyon taught Richard a familiar series of exercises that he himself had struggled to learn under Lyon's watchful eye.

"Now, the idea of this is not to prove you can tie yourself into knots, but just to keep yourself flexible. Flexibility, and the ability to remain relaxed, are the two most important things to learn if you are to become a soldier, as you want to. Strength comes a distant third. Now, try again. Lie down, as if you are doing a press-up but just arch your back. Yes, that's good. Feel how flexible your spine is? As you get older, you will lose that flexibility unless you use it. Now try the other exercises in order."

Alan watched as Richard carefully stretched and flexed each joint and muscle before turning back to face Lyon.

"Like that?"

"Yes, like that. As you grow older, you will build up muscle naturally, especially if you help with moving things round, lifting things or even gardening. Horse-riding can also help you remain flexible and grow strong. Do those exercises when you wake up, and before you go to sleep, and when you are fully grown, you will be more flexible than an acrobat, and able to this."

Alan gasped as Lyon launched himself into a dazzling series of rolls, spins, leaps and somersaults round and above Richard. Unable to help himself, he applauded as Lyon landed in a half-crouch, obviously startling Richard. Lyon just half-turned and beckoned him over.

"Now, Richard, Alan is a latecomer to my exercises, unlike you, so although he is flexible by human standards, he is not as flexible as you could be when you reach his age. Now, though, you should be feeling hungry, after expending all that energy, so go get yourself some breakfast. A healthy body leads to a sound mind. Go."

Richard nodded, then ran off to the house. Lyon watched him go before speaking.

"I am sorry if my absence worried you this morning, but I was already awake when Richard came to me, asking to learn. Next time, I will leave a note."

Alan shook his head.

"No. Now that I know, it won't bother me. Richard really likes you. That's good. Dad was worried about Richard refusing to find a good role model, but I think he found the best there is."

Lyon smiled slightly at the compliment as they re-entered the house.

.

". . . is so _cool_! I want to be like him!"

Lyon twitched one ear to hear better, a movement that caught Alan's attention. Giving Lyon a quizzical look, he nodded in comprehension as Lyon pointed towards a low hedge. Together, they crept towards it, Alan visibly straining to hear the conversation happening on the other side of the border.

"Just look at his muscles and the way he moves, just like a big cat, and I'm not talking about Tiddles either. He's cool."

"I think that he's creepy."

Alan and Lyon settled themselves into a small hollow in the hedge, listening to the kids talking just a metre away.

"He isn't human, he's a freak. A monster. My dad says that freaks like him should all be killed."

"He was altered by bad men before birth, and now fights against those bad men. If he fights the baddies, he's a goodie, and is human!"

"Richard." whispered Lyon. Alan nodded in belated recognition.

"He's not human, he's a cat. A freak. Not human at all."

"No, according to him, at a genetic level he is 99.02 percent pure human. That is more than close enough to be classified as human."

"According to him? You listen to that freak? You gonna join the beasties next? Become their lackey?"

"Lyon is not a freak. The Government accepted him as human, so if the Government accepted him, why shouldn't I?"

"'Cos he's a freak!"

"Prove it."

"Why should I, traitor!"

There was a slight pause, than the sound of a scuffle. Leaping to their feet, Alan and Lyon stared at the strange tableau on the other side of the bushes. A big kid of about thirteen was flailing at Richard, who was dodging each attempted blow and swatting aside the ones that threatened to reach him. Alan gave Lyon a puzzled glance that Lyon had no trouble as interpreting as _where did he learn to dodge like that?_

"I taught him some extra exercises that help to increase his reaction speed and physical stability. It looks as if he's been practicing them almost solidly since Tuesday. I had no idea that they would be _that_ effective."

As Lyon finished his explanation, Richard twisted inside his adversary's range, and grabbed him by the elbow and belt. Twisting, he knocked the opponent flat and knelt on his back.

"Gav, I don't care what you say about me, but if you insult my honor-brother, I will defend him, even if it means taking you down. Now, promise you will not insult Lyon again."

The prone boy responded with a muffled oath.

"Enough."

Richard glanced at Lyon and smiled, while the boy on the ground stiffened. Lyon lazily bounced over the bush and lifted Richard off the boy, who instantly scrambled away from Lyon, before breaking into a panicked dash.

"I could have handled him."

Lyon looked down into Richard's face.

"I am sure you could, but just ask yourself this. Are words really that bad?"

Richard shook his head slightly, then suddenly beamed in comprehension.

"You mean that I should just ignore him?"

"His opinions of me, yes. You know the truth, but will hitting him teach him the truth, or just make him hate you?"

Before Richard could respond, Lyon offered his hand. Richard clasped it, wrapping his small fingers round Lyon's larger ones.

"Come on, let's get back to the house, shall we? I believe that it's almost teatime."

.

The general looked up as the door closed.

"Ah, recruits Alan and Lyon McKensie. Welcome back. You'll be disappointed to know that none of the others managed to show the lateral initiative vital for membership in the S.A.W.S, so you two are the only two going. I've sent a report about you two to the captain there, along with the notation that you, Lyon, are human according to the special committee. The others have been sent to training camp Beta, with most of the staff. Now, the real fun begins. If you thought that it was hard before, you are going to hate it now. Report to the Self Defense instructor. Dismissed.

Alan and Lyon exited the room and glanced at each other.

.

The floor boomed with the impact as Alan slammed into the tatami. He lay there for several seconds before accepting the instructor's hand in regaining his feet.

"Analyse. What happened?"

Alan blinked as he ran through the sequence of events that had caused him to describe a parabolic arc.

"You drew me into extending myself into your zone slightly too much, so you could grab me before I could withdraw."

The instructor nodded.

"Well done. Top marks for observation. How could you counter that move?"

Alan frowned as he discarded possibilities.

"You could continue your charge instead of withdrawing, knocking the opponent off balance, and giving yourself an escape vector."

The instructor nodded again.

"Good. You have earned a rest. Go sit down. Recruit Lyon, get your furry hide over here!"

Lyon grinned and rose from his sitting position. Loping over to the instructor, he bowed, then adopted a defensive position.

"Your defense is lopsided, Lyon. Correct it."

Lyon shook his head slowly.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

The instructor attacked as he finished the sentence, and the air seemed to blur momentarily. An instant later, all motion stopped, with the instructor lying on his back, Lyon's claws a mere fraction of an inch from his jugular. After a few seconds, Lyon retreated and bowed. The instructor sprang to his feet.

"Very clever, Lyon. You faked me into attacking your left side, and you managed to turn what would have been an error into a critical advantage. Your speed is very impressive as well."

Lyon bowed in recognition of the compliment before spinning out of the way and lashing out with his foot. The instructor somersaulted forwards, his momentum carrying him through three-quarters of a circle before he slammed into the tatami. His eyes briefly unfocused, then he smiled slightly.

"Good reflexes against a dishonorable attack, Lyon. Partner up, you two, see how long you can spar for."

.

The left target exploded as the bullet hit it in the center while the right target spun on its pole as the bullet hit it slightly to the left of the bulls-eye. Lyon growled, then adjusted his stance. As the target stopped spinning, he fired another shot. This time, the target spun the other way.

"Try to relax. Think of the gun as part of your hand, not as something that you hold. Become the gun, like this."

Lyon watched as Alan relaxed, holding the gun loosely by his side. Suddenly in a blur of motion, the gun appeared to leap up and fire of its own free will, firing three bullets in quick succession. Turning, Lyon saw the shattered remnants of three targets fall to the ground.

"So, relax, and fire. Yes?"

Alan shook his head, then suddenly smiled.

"Think of your gun as a part of your claw, and the target as the point of contact. That might work."

Lyon shook his head and then stood in a relaxed posture, watching the targets arrayed in front of him. Breathing slowly, he narrowed his eyes slightly, sharpening his focus on the targets. He let the rest of the world fall away from him until his personal universe consisted of only the targets in front of him. Suddenly, he felt his arm rise, and his finger tighten on the trigger. In front of him, two targets exploded and he was jolted back to full awareness.

"What the heck was that!"

Alan looked at him in confusion, and Lyon quickly explained what he had felt. Alan smiled slightly.

"It's a very rare Indian trick, used by hunters and warriors, and stolen by the Japanese. They let everything go, and let their weapons do what they want to do. They sort of let their subconscious do their fighting for them. It's called _the warrior within_."

Lyon gave Alan a skeptical glance.

"No, I'm serious. Remember dad's archery demonstration just before we left? How he threaded that bracelet at fifty metres? That was done using _the warrior within_. Very few people can do it with any great regularity, but it looks like you might. Try to get into a sort of calm-flow-light state."

Lyon turned back to face the remaining targets. Letting his mind go blank, he found the point of balance in his mind again. Attaining it, he was suddenly hyper-aware of the surroundings, the thudding of Alan's heart, the song of the birds in the small grove on the left, the crunch of gravel that heralded the arrival of the wheelchair-bound sharpshooting instructor. Looking at the targets, he let them slowly expand in his perception, until once again they filled his vision. Once again, his arm seemed to take on a life of its own, but suddenly Lyon was aware of how his arm was responding to orders that he was giving without realizing it.

As he watched, his arm rose and pointed the gun. He felt his finger compress on the trigger, felt the firing of the gun and saw the spent cartridge spiral down on his right. Slowly , his gun re-aimed itself, and Lyon became aware of the _rightness_ of the direction of the gun. Pulling the trigger again, he was rewarded by the sight of the second target disintegrate into an expanding tangle of metallic shards and flakes. Taking careful control of himself, Lyon aimed at the third and final target, waiting for his feelings to confirm the proper aim before pulling the trigger. As the third target shattered, Lyon allowed the rest of the world to re-assert itself. He glanced sideways to see Alan gaping at him.

"What is it?"

Alan closed his mouth, blinked and shook his head to clear it before answering.

"Three targets in less than half a second? That's better than I could do!"

Lyon felt his own jaw drop as he fought to comprehend what Alan had just said. Stuttering, he stopped himself, took a deep breath and tried again.

"It seemed like ten minutes to me! Are you sure it was less than half a second?"

Alan nodded, awe forming on his face.

"Yeah, barely a third of a second. Looks like you found _the warrior within_."


	4. Deployment

The captain looked up from the report on his desk as the sounds of a fight intruded on his senses. Muttering a curse, he grabbed his uniform jacket, put it on and strode out into the parade square, where an unusual sight met his eyes. Soldiers were running in from all directions, throwing themselves into a complex fight in the center of the yard, and getting hurled out again. The captain looked down at his report, sighed, then let loose with a stentorian bellow that echoed through the whole camp.

"ALL OF YOU STOP RIGHT NOW OR YOU'RE ON A CHARGE! WHAT'S THE MEANING OF THIS FRACAS?!"

The heaving mass in the center of the yard faltered, then split into two groups, a large one composed of most of the soldiers in the camp, the majority of whom were nursing bruises, cuts or black eyes, and two in recruit uniforms who had managed to escape totally unscathed despite the fight. One glance at the pair told the captain why the fight had started. One of the two who wore a recruit's uniform was a Wyr-Soldier. Glancing at his report again, he sighed, then walked over to the mismatched duo.

"Cadets Lyon McKensie and Alan Redstorm? Under the circumstances, I don't think I need to ask who is whom. Do pardon me for a minute."

Turning back to the soldiers, he raised his voice to ensure that he was heard.

"Listen up! These two are Lyon McKensie and Alan Redstorm, our newest S.A.W.S soldiers! Before you ask why they are here, take a look at them, and yourselves! Clean yourselves up, report for duty, and pay attention to the notice board! You'd all be a lot healthier now if you had!"

Turning back to Alan and Lyon, he motioned towards his office. Saluting, Alan and Lyon followed him. Sitting down, the captain glanced at the reports again.

"Cadets Lyon and Alan, I see from the report that you work well together and have sharpshooter ratings with firearms. Usually I would assign you to camp tasks and testing for a few days to gauge your skills, but from the little display outside, I think that you will be far more useful in the field. You will be assigned to the third squad, under Commander Maria Tereka. She will see to your introductions to the rest of the squad. Report to her office, she will be expecting you by the time you get there. Dismissed."

.

Maria glanced at the two cadets, her slanted eyes noting every nuance of their body language. When she stood up, her body seemed composed entirely of bone and whipcord.

"Well, you two managed to hold your own against half the base, and escape without bruising. That's good. I am impressed. However, it is one thing to fight humans, another to fight Wyr-soldiers. They are faster, stronger and more agile than humans, but because they're brainwashed, we are more intelligent, and more adaptable to unexpected situations. Tomorrow, we are embarking on a mission that will either cost us an entire S.A.W.S. platoon, or will allow us to launch an attack that will liberate the rest of Germany. I hope that it will be the latter. Come on, I'll introduce you to the others, when the shooting starts, you'll want them to know that they're on your side.

Alan and Lyon gave each other quick glances, then followed Captain Maria through the door.

.

The countryside seemed to leap up at them. Lyon watched as several parachutes opened below him, angling himself so that he would miss them. Waiting until he was at the point that he had seen the others open their parachutes, he yanked at his ripcord. The parachute unfolded above him, and his descent suddenly slowed. Pulling slightly on one rope, he angled down towards a relatively open area. A few seconds after he landed, a faint _thud_ and muffled curse announced Alan's landing. Lyon ignored him and scanned the surrounding bushes while Alan unclipped his parachute. Gathering his parachute up, Lyon backed up to stand by Alan.

"Off to the left, low bush. Perfect place to stash parachutes, then we get our bearings and try to locate Wyr-Master Ch'tarr's base."

Alan nodded and they quickly stashed their 'chutes under the bush. Alan hunkered down and activated his GPS pad while Lyon kept a sharp watch on the surrounding forest, weapon at the ready.

"Got it, two kilometres north, half an hour at normal march, one hour with care. Let's go."

Lyon nodded and stalked ahead of Alan, flitting through the half-shadows of the untended forest.

.

The felinoid Wyr-soldier walked along his predefined route, glancing at the large trees either side of the path. Halfway-up one tree, Alan and Lyon watched him pass. Ten minutes after he vanished, they climbed back down.

"That was close. The base should be over the next ridge, let's move."

The two of them scrambled up the steep incline and crested the ridge.

"Shit!"

Alan nodded at Lyon's grasp of the situation. Below them sprawled a combined Lab/Barracks building, surrounded by large warehouses, hangars, a small airfield, wire fences, stone walls, ploughed areas of land obviously concealing mines, lookout towers and heavily fortified bunkers bristling with automatic weapons.

"How do we get in?"

Lyon looked behind him and grinned.

"I know just how. Let's try to ambush that guard."

.

The guard at the gate looked up at the sight of a felinoid Wyr-Soldier hauling an unconscious human towards the gate. His ursine brows met as he considered the sight, which fell outside of that which he had been trained to respond to. Deep in unaccustomed cogitation, he moved out and saluted the Wyr-soldier, who responded with a speed that warmed him inside.

"Where you taking that un-mod?" the guardsman asked slowly.

"Sir! Bringing prisoner in for interrogation as per orders, Sir!"

The bear-man straightened at the compliments.

"Okay, go in."

"Thank-you, Sir!"

The Wyr-guard watched the Wyr-soldier drag his burden towards the main building before turning back to resume his boring vigil.

.

Lyon closed the door to the small room and leaned against it with a sigh of relief and exhilaration.

"Thank god for thick Wyr-guards." he breathed. Alan nodded.

"We're in, now, how do I pass as a Wyr-Soldier?"

Lyon looked round the storeroom they were in, and his eyes settled on a bottle of green dye. Alan followed his gaze.

"You have got to be kidding."

.

The Lion-man and Lizard-man strode past a group of Wyr-scientists who were gathered in a huddle, eating bland ration bars and a salad. When they were out of earshot, the Lizard-man started talking quietly, but intensely.

"It'll take me _weeks_ to remove the dye, and I miss my hair. I'll get an incredible amount of stick when we get home."

Lyon glanced at him.

"We're in, and unchallenged in plain view. That's enough. Hold this a minute."

Alan took the box and balanced it on the one that he was holding as Lyon stopped a small Wyr-scientist by stepping in front of her. She looked up, showing herself to be a ape-human crossmatch.

"Which way to the main cloning Lab? We have a batch of vital chemicals required there A.S.A.P."

The Wyr-scientist blinked twice, then answered.

"Straight on, third right, second left."

"Thank-you."

Stepping back, Lyon allowed the Wyr-scientist to pass before taking back his box. Turning, he walked down the wide corridor. Alan caught up with him.

"Do we trust her?"

"She had no reason to lie, and we do look like true Wyr-Soldiers who were entrusted with a special mission. Come on."

Alan shook his head, and followed Lyon until they reached a door emblazoned with the legend 'Main Cloning Lab, Danger, Authorized Personnel Only'. Lyon placed his ear to the door for a few seconds before slipping inside. Alan followed him, and they froze. Before them, arranged in rows, were large, liquid-filled tube containers holding young Wyr-soldiers of both genders, all of whom were obviously human-cat hybrids. Lyon carefully put down his box and moved over to a nearby monitor.

"Twenty-seven subjects, current growth time, five weeks. Not undergone any implants yet, or any Hypno-imprinting. Looks like. . ."

"What arrrre you doing herrrre? Authorrrrisssssed perrrrssssonellll onlllly!"

Alan turned to see a large, crocodile-like humanoid appear from a darkened corner of the lab. Acting quickly, Alan hefted his box and handed it over to the surprised Crocodile-man.

"Extra growth hormones from stores, your request came through."

The Crocodile-man looked puzzled.

"I neverrrr orrrrderrrred any grrrrowth horrrrmones. . . You! You'rrre human!"

Before the Croc could do more than start to draw in a breath in preparation for shouting, Lyon materialized behind him and clamped his arms across his throat. Taking his cue, Alan dived to the floor in front of the Croc as he staggered forward, tripping him up. As the Croc fell, Lyon twisted viciously, snapping his neck as if it was nothing more than a dry twig.

"Quick, help me get him over here."

Lyon grabbed the other arm and together they dragged the scientist back to its alcove, which turned out to contain a small, camouflaged but slightly ajar, door. Alan opened it slightly, and whistled.

"Lyon, look, a secret tunnel. Let's stash the body and follow it."

They dragged the body into the tunnel, closing the door behind them. Lyon took the lead and prowled ahead down the tunnel, peering through each small spyhole before motioning for Alan to hurry up. Alan ran up and looked through the small grill. He whistled slightly and glanced at Lyon.

"Well, shall we use their own weapons against them?"

.

"Where the hell are they?" fumed Maria Tereka as the last of her scouts reported in, with a negative report. "Alan and Lyon can't have been captured, or the base would be on high alert, but they're not out here either. Where the hell are they?"

As if in answer to her question, a series of blasts suddenly blossomed round the edge of the base below them, followed by a couple of larger explosions in the center of the compound, and a single missile which rose vertically before exploding in a near-blinding flash. Maria stared for an instant, her mind working furiously while the others in her squadron just stared.

"Shit! They've already infiltrated the base, and opened it for us! Should have realized that Lyon could have infiltrated it that easy! Come on, Chaaaaarge!"

Leading her unit, Maria raced down the hill to the semi-ruined base.

.

Alan scrambled back into the secret passage and dropped the hot missile launcher.

"She got the message, I saw her start the attack. With the outer defenses down, the Wyr-master'll retreat and barricade in order to buy enough time to organize a counter-strike. Lyon, you get back and spy on him, I'll get to the edge of the base and lead them in through the secret passages. Leave a note in Lab 1 telling us where he is, and we'll get there."

Lyon nodded and scurried down the low passage on all fours, moving just like a giant cat.

.

Maria shot another charging Wyr-soldier before noticing the standard-issue S.A.W.S rifle poking out from behind a vertical nest of pipes, where none of her soldiers should have been. Sidling to the pipes, she dived round and slammed into a bald, green Wyr-soldier. Before she could bring up her rifle, it snapped to attention, saluted and barked, "Ma'am, Private Alan Redstorm reporting in! Secret passage located, Private Lyon is doing a recon to locate the Wyr-master!"

Maria blinked and stared at the pseudo-lizard, recognizing Alan's features between the green dye. Shrugging, she waved for the squadron to follow her.

"Lead on, Alan."

.

Lyon hefted his rifle and crouched behind the barricade at the main entrance to the main control room. Behind him, Wyr-Master Ch'tarr paced round, cursing under her breath and trying to raise various units on her handset. Lyon glanced surreptitiously at the secret passage, spotting a sudden flicker of green in the air-grill set in the top of the concealed door.

.

Alan turned back to face Maria.

"He's at the barricade on the left. If I know him, he'll have a plan to get rid of the other two there. The barricade on the right is the dangerous one. One surprise, though. The Wyr-Master is a woman, a cat-hybrid. I'll try to hold her for long enough for the rest of you to neutralize the other threats. Okay?"

Maria nodded.

"Get ready, NOW!"

.

The secret door slammed open and a sudden surge of humanity rocketed out of it. Caught flatfooted, Ch'tarr froze just long enough for a bald green-skinned ( _green-skinned?!_ ) human to slam into her and knock her down.

.

Lyon was moving even as the door was still opening. Throwing his rifle into the air, he grabbed the guards on either side of him and slammed their heads together, sending them spiraling into unconsciousness before reclaiming his firearm and turning to shoot at the other Wyr-soldiers.

.

The guards at the other barricade hesitated for a vital split second at the sight of a green humanoid barreling straight into Ch'tarr. By the time their Hypno-imprinted minds had sorted out what was happening, they were already dying in a ferocious hailstorm of armor piercing bullets.

.

As the last soldier fell, Alan relaxed slightly and pushed himself away from the prone form of Ch'tarr. Behind him, Lyon stood up, drawing Ch'tarr's gaze.

"You. Kill them! I order you to kill them!"

Lyon laughed.

"You order a true-human to kill other true-humans? No. Alan, the clone-cylinders will need to be emptie. . .WATCH OUT!"

Even as he shouted his warning, Lyon dug his toe-claws into the carpet and accelerated into a blur, slamming into Ch'tarr mere inches in front of Maria. As she reflexively flinched backwards, the room seemed to explode with twin furry missiles trying to kill each other.

"Follow me!"

Alan bolted back into the secret passage, followed very quickly by the rest of the squadron except for Lyon. Lyon watched them go, and then devoted his resources to deflecting the clawswipes meant to disembowel him. Snarling, he launched his own attack, ignoring the trickling of blood from numerous small cuts on his body.

.

Alan clambered out of the tunnel and into Lab 1, ignoring the cold body of the technician. Behind him, he heard the others climb out and gasp in horror at the sight of the transparent cylinders and their contents. Alan moved over to the console and looked at it, noting the line on the display that Lyon had noticed earlier.

"According to this, they can be decanted safely, and have not suffered loyalty implants or Hypno-Imprints. Captain Tereka, request permission to liberate unwilling Wyr-Soldier captives."

Maria looked at the small floating Wyr-children, then at the passage before responding.

"If Lyon doesn't survive, we'll need something to remember him by. Alright. I need volunteers, twenty-seven of, to act as temporary parents for young, confused children. We'll teach them humanity, and hope that they grow to be as good as Lyon. Alan, begin the process. Who volunteers?"

Instantly, the entire squadron, all forty-seven of them, stepped forward. Maria smiled wryly.

"Thanks. Okay, I'll choose at random. Alan, start the procedure."

As Alan started the decanting procedure, Maria quickly strode through the ranks, randomly choosing soldiers who quickly moved to beside the tubes. The final twenty, under her direction, split to cover the passage and main door, except for one who started speaking urgently into a portable radio set. The fluid in the tubes drained away and the life-support tubes detached from the young children. As the cylinders opened, the soldiers quickly reached in and scooped up the Wyr-kids, holding them in comforting hugs while removing the last traces of their time in the tubes. Some of the soldiers started to sing lullabies to their charges while others rocked them slowly. Suddenly, the soldiers at the door parted and Lyon staggered in, covered in bruises, cuts and bite-marks, his right arm obviously broken in two places. Maria glanced up, then hurried over to him.

"Ch'tarr?"

Lyon pulled his left hand out from behind him and dropped Ch'tarr's snarling, severed head on the ground before keeling over in a total collapse.

.

Lyon's eyes opened slightly and fought to focus. Slowly, the blur above him resolved itself into Alan, partway back to his original coloration with only a hint of green in the bright light.

"Well, back with us at last. You know, when you faint from war-wounds, you really make a fine job of it."

Lyon tried to speak, but could only produce a harsh croak. Alan produced a small flask of water and slowly dribbled it into Lyon's mouth, letting it re-hydrate the tissues of his mouth and throat.

"You were probably going to ask how long you were out for, so I'll tell you. Four days. A lot has happened. The kids we rescued, several of your 'uncles' officially adopted them from the soldiers who were uneasy with them. The others soldiers, the ones who bonded with the kids, were re-assigned back to America, where they'll raise the kids like you were raised. The kids have already been confirmed as de-facto humans. Your dad was quite a trend-setter. You've been awarded the Crimson Crescent for acts of bravery above and beyond the call of duty, as have I, and we have been given a five-week holiday, officially recovery leave, to be taken when you have recovered enough to move. Anything I haven't covered?"

Lyon shook his head slightly.

"Good. Go back to sleep. I'll watch over you."

Lyon smiled slightly as his eyes closed again.

.

"Is he alright?"

Alan turned at Maria's whispered question.

"He should be O.K, but he needs rest and recuperation. That fight with Ch'tarr took a lot out of him, both physically and mentally. This mission was the first time that he'd ever had to kill a Wyr-soldier, or a female for that matter, and Ch'tarr was a human-cat hybrid similar to himself. It's got to be tearing him up inside, that he killed one so like him."

Maria frowned.

"I don't think standard counselling will work with him, councilors will not be able to overcome their prejudices enough to work with him, and he would probably not let down his barriers enough to let them help. Any ideas? I'd hate to lose him now, after all the things he did for us."

Alan scratched at his stubble.

"The best thing would be to take him to my family, especially my youngest brother Richard, who idolizes him. They would definitely be able to help him, and time spent away from the military would remind him of what he is fighting for, and why."

.

Elissa looked up from the pan she was stirring as excited shrieks echoed into the kitchen. Replacing the lid and turning the heat down to simmer, she shucked her apron and strode to the front door to find the source of the noise.

"Alan!"

Alan spun round and ran to her, hauling her off her feet with an energetic hug.

"Put me down, you big oaf!"

Laughing Alan lowered her back to the ground. Peering round him, Elissa saw Lyon scramble out of the jeep, his right arm resting in a sling. She gasped and scurried over to him.

"You alright? What happened to your arm?"

"Broke it in combat. It was worth it. Healing fine."

"Never mind. Come on!"

Pulling Lyon behind her like a tug pulling a liner, Elissa led him into the living room and directed him onto a sofa. Alan took another seat as Richard, who had been orbiting Lyon worriedly, scrambled onto the sofa and snuggled under Lyon's left arm.

"What are you doing here?"

Alan glanced at Lyon before answering.

"We managed to liberate a vast tract of land from a Wyr-Master, with no fatalities and only one major casualty, Lyon, who managed to take down the fastest, most vicious person I ever saw. She broke his arm, but she died. We gained five weeks recuperation time, and we even managed to rescue twenty-seven of Lyon's younger brothers and sisters."

"Cool!" exclaimed Richard. "Can I meet them?"

"Not soon, they're still young. When both you and they are older, I'll introduce you to them, if you still want to meet them then."

"Are they all cat-men like you?"

"Mainly Lion-human and Tiger-human hybrids, yes."

Alan gave Richard an indulgent glance before continuing his story.

"After Lyon recovered enough to move by himself, we managed to wrangle a trip on an empty supply aircraft coming to a nearby base for refitting. Once there, we managed to requisition a jeep, and we came here."

Elissa nodded before asking the questions that had been preying on her mind.

"What happened to your hair? And why are you slightly green?"

Both Alan and Lyon burst into unrestrained laughter.

.

"Lyon?"

Lyon slowly opened his eyes, and saw a dark lump above him. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to compensate for the pre-dawn darkness, and the lump turned into Richard.

"Lyon, wake up please. You promised."

Lyon sat up, shaking the last vestiges of sleep from his head as he did so. Reaching across, he grabbed his sling and tied it round his right arm before pulling on a pair of jeans. Standing up, he silently moved out of the bedroom, Richard following him, closing the door behind him.

"Okay. Hold on."

Richard obediently took Lyon's hand as they moved silently through the dark house, passing through the kitchen and exiting into the light of the false dawn. Looking round, his eyes catching the light, Lyon moved onto a dirt path, Richard beside him. Settling down to a slow and steady pace, he relaxed as Richard darted away, then rejoined him. A faint rustling from behind them caused Lyon to turn his head and spot the knotted plastic bag in Richard's hand. Richard followed his gaze before handing it over.

"Breakfast."

Lyon nodded and used his claws to slice it open. Inside, neatly wrapped, was a flask and several plastic boxes. Opening them in turn, Lyon smelt orange juice, chocolate and honey sandwiches.

"Look!"

Lyon turned and stared at the eagle that floated in the air above them, illuminated by the slowly rising sun. Glancing across, he saw Richard entranced by the sight of the powerful bird of prey. Lyon nudged him.

"Oh, sorry. It's just, the Eagle, he reminds me of what we are, and what we should be."

"I see only a bird."

"Yes, but it's what the bird represents. It flies high, with grace and power. It is loyal to its mate, and death to its enemies. It takes only what it needs, it doesn't steal, or try to pervert nature for its own gain. It's a true warrior, like Dad, Alan and you."

Lyon turned slightly, seeing the eagle in a new light.

"That is incredibly philosophical for one so young."

Richard smiled.

"Knowing you has forced me to think, to try to keep up."

Lyon nodded slightly, then looked to his left.

"Wolf."

"Where? I see it! Two, no, five of them!"

"Yes. Pack animals, loyal, but deadly. Another type of warrior, a type that works together for the greater good."

"Like you do in Europe."

"Yes, like I do in Europe..."

Richard glanced worriedly at Lyon.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes. yes, I am. Thank-you for hauling me out here, Richard. This early morning is doing me a lot of good, both physically and mentally. Look, is that a deer over there?"


	5. Infiltration

Lyon and Alan dodged to one side as a large crate was shoved into the cargo hold of the plane. Moving hastily, they exited the aircraft and set off for Captain Tereka's office. Just as they arrived, she opened the door and bumped into them.

"Oh, sorry. Alan? Lyon? Thought you weren't gonna be back for another four days. I'd have called you if I'd known, told you to report to the British SAWS. camp instead. We're evacuating. Seems our liberation of Ch'tarr's base woke the other Wyr-masters up, they linked together under one called Draco, and went on a new offensive, rolling over our guys."

A colonel yelled to their left, and Maria ran over, leaving Alan and Lyon staring at each other. A few minutes later, Maria returned.

"Okay, listen, we're falling one hundred miles back to the Maignot line, but we have a problem. We weren't expecting you guys to be here, so we'll have to call for another copter, we're way beyond safe limits with all our aircraft already."

Lyon shook his head.

"Ma'am, I believe that Alan and I should head west on foot. We set records during training, we can make it. We'll take some cameras, film and survival gear, and get some recon info on the way."

Maria looked at them.

"If it was anyone else, I'd say no, but you two are tough enough to do it. We're blowing the base, I had worried about the Wyr-Soldiers defusing the bombs before they blew, but you can set them off by remote. Grab what gear you need, and good luck. See you on the other side, and don't forget your I.D. Especially you, Lyon."

.

The trees stopped shaking as the last echoes of the blast died away. Lyon glanced round, sniffing at the air.

"We got some with that perimeter blast, I can smell burned flesh. No sign of pursuit, keep moving, they probably are."

Alan nodded, then used a convenient branch to haul himself up the muddy slope. Lyon followed , using his claws to obliterate Alan's tracks.

"This Draco character sounds nasty. From the name, a derivative of Dragon, he's probably a type of lizard."

Alan nodded slowly, then frowned.

"Do you hear something? Sort of like an engine, but muffled?"

Lyon froze.

"I hear it. It's heading this way. Up that tree there, we'll make a camouflage hide near the top, and watch."

Alan sprinted to the tree and started climbing. Lyon obliterated their traces before hauling himself up, reaching Alan just as he pulled a rope from his backpack. Working together, they bent and tied the tree branches, making a nearly-invisible den in the canopy. Alan glanced behind him and froze.

"What the hell?"

Peering over a thin but leafy branch, Lyon focused on an unusual tank moving towards the deserted base. Pulling out his camera, he quickly attached the zoom lens and pointed it at the distant tank.

"It's round! It looks like a flying saucer, but with crawler tracks, from a defensive viewpoint, a saucer shape is best, but the gun just sticks out from the body-shell, with only vertical swiveling. Hang on, the top third of the dome is a turret! I can see it moving!"

Lyon hit the shutter button several times, recording the image of the highly unusual tank.

"I can just make out a seam below the gun. Probably the rotation joint, and at the front there is a small discoloration, might be the drivers viewport. It's firing!"

An explosion blossomed within the deserted camp.

"Powerful gun, just took out the main admin building with one shot. A hatch at the top is opening, a Wyr-Soldier is peering out. Wearing a uniform like nothing I've ever seen before, dark green with brown stripes down each sleeve, and some sort of insignia over his heart."

Alan leaned forwards slightly, using one hand to lift his binoculars.

"I see the insignia. It's a stylized lizard of some sort, looks like a dragon. These are probably Draco's troops. Look, left, eleven'o'clock, foot-soldiers moving in. Wyr-Cats, but the symbol on their uniform is slightly different, a type of wolf, I think. This is confirmation that the Wyr-Masters are working together."

"Yes, and see how the foot-soldiers obey the Tank-warriors? Draco is definitely in complete control of the Wyr-Masters, judging from the alacrity shown."

"Agreed. Let's get down and out of the area before they sweep this way."

Lyon nodded, then froze as a shadow flicked over them. Looking up, he cursed softly, but viciously.

"What?"

"Hawkmen. Someone's finally learned how to cross humans and birds."

Alan glanced up, spotting the airborne shapes that flew across the forest in a regular grid pattern.

"They're small."

"Four feet tall, wingspan of twelve feet, highly developed musculature. Feet appear to act as hands, probably to compensate for the loss of primary manipulative appendages."

Alan frowned.

"If they have Hawks, we can take it as gospel that they have Owls. We will not be able to detect the Owls, so we must move by day, which they won't expect. Look, the Hawks are moving on."

Lyon nodded, and watched them for a few minutes.

"Okay, clear. Let's go."

"Hold it."

Alan pulled out a small transmitter unit and handed it to Lyon.

"The secondary bombs, remember? May as well have a diversion."

Lyon grinned and pushed the button.

.

The rumble of the tanks faded as the army moved into the distance. Lyon peered out from the concealed cave.

"That was too were more Wyr-Soldiers in that group then were at Ch'tarr's base. They must be force-growing them at maximum speed."

Alan nodded.

"Two miles to the Maignot Line, may as well be two thousand. There are so many Wyr-Soldiers there, the forest is swarming with them."

"Yes, there is only one way that we can get through."

Alan stared at him, then shook his head.

"Oh no, not again! It took me a fortnight to get it all off last time!"

"It's either that, or we attempt the border, get caught, and get tortured to death. Your choice."

Alan sank back down to the ground and put his head in his hands while Lyon triumphantly fished a depressingly familiar bottle out of his pack.

"How do you talk me into these things?"

.

The bushes rustled and ten Wyr-Soldiers jogged into the camp. Nine moved towards a large tent while the leader split off and trotted over to an armoured command module nearby. Unnoticed, two more Wyr-Soldiers, a Lizard-man and a Lion-man slipped into the camp and joined the ones heading for the large tent. Inside the tent, they joined a long queue that led to a small army kitchen, manned by a large, furry black-and-white ursine humanoid. The line kept moving quickly and the Wyr-Soldiers moved to portable benches with their meals. Moving to one corner of the tent, the Lizard-man and Lion-man sat next to each other at an otherwise empty table, and started talking to each other in low voices.

"This is insane. Even more insane than last time."

"No. They cannot suspect us or we would be dead already. We just need to get onto a strike-team aimed at the Maignot Line, then we can split off at the last instant and make our way to safety."

"Shhh!"

The two Wyr-soldiers glanced at the entrance, where a large, armor-plated humanoid had appeared. The new humanoid squinted through his visor, which was mounted just behind the horn on his snout, before walking into the tent. All the Wyr-soldiers turned to face him.

"Enemy attack incoming, E.T.A. five minutes. Defense positions now, protect the genesis-tubes at all costs!"

Instantly all the soldiers dropped their meals and charged outside. Alan and Lyon hesitated for a second before the ursine humanoid grabbed them and hauled them along at a breakneck pace, shoving the others out of the way as he headed for a small emplacement. Jumping into it, he unlimbered a large six-barreled machine gun and rested it on the outer edge of the reinforced wall of the open bunker while Alan and Lyon flanked him, guns at the ready.

"You two new here, aintcha?" he growled questioningly.

Lyon glanced at him before boldly lying.

"Transferred in from the north when our unit was wiped by the humans. How did you know?"

The Panda-man snorted in derision.

"Not what ah meant, boy. You two don' seem to be true Wyr-Soldiers, like the others. They don' talk in low voices, or act restrained like you two. That's why ah grabbed you, afore you could give yourselves away mo'e. You are what you seem, matey, a lion-man, but you ain't no lizard, Ah've seen lizards afore, and skin is mo'e scaly. Who you really?"

Lyon glanced over the parapet and caught a fleeting glimpse of movement in the nearby bushes.

"Tell you later. Looks like the humans are out there. Maybe they're going to try a surprise attack."

Alan nodded slightly to confirm that he had caught the slight emphasis on the last two words. The Panda-man leaned forwards and glanced over at the trees.

"Humph. Yeah, that might be 'em. Ah'm Bruin, what you two called?"

"I'm Lyon and that's Lan. Here they come!"

Bruin reached for the machine gun, but his paw never reached it. With a startled grunt, he collapsed from Alan's sudden blow. Alan reached down and felt for a pulse as the first bullets started to fly overhead.

"He's alive. How do we survive this?"

Lyon pulled out a small brown camouflage blanket from his bag and unfolded it, draping it over Bruin before ducking down against the front wall of the bunker. Alan joined him.

"Well?"

Lyon lifted his finger to his lips as the gunfire increased. A few seconds later a sudden roar announced the arrival of a tank, a roar which was joined by several more. Lyon peeped above the parapet then ducked down, grinning.

"I recognize the infantry unit, one of my uncles is the captain. Keep down and quiet, and then when the unit attacks, we surrender. I'll ask to see Captain Simon Trippan, and he'll I.D. me. Get down!"

A sudden shadow blotted out the sun as the first tank rolled over the pit, its tracks crushing the parapet wall and sending lumps of earth and concrete into the pit. A couple of seconds later, four humans dropped into the pit and leveled their weapons at Lyon and Alan. Lyon grinned.

"Uncle Simon!"

The oldest of the four soldiers stared at Lyon.

"Lyon? What are you doing here?"

"Undercover work. I need to get back to H.Q. for debriefing, along with Alan here, and our "guest", Bruin, who's sleeping under this sheet. How long before the base is secured?"

Simon motioned the other soldiers out of the pit.

"Just stay here, Lyon, We'll be back as soon as we can guarantee secure passage. Thank god you're O.K."

Simon scrambled out of the pit. Lyon leaned back against the wall.

"Well, let's hurry up and wait."

Alan smiled and relaxed.

.

"Lyon! Alan!"

Alan and Lyon turned and waved at Maria, who was limping across the parade square towards them, her right leg liberally coated in plaster. As she approached, she got a good look at Alan and started to laugh. Alan sighed and gave Lyon a resigned glance before lowering the still-sleeping Bruin to the ground.

"Honestly, Alan. We leave you for two weeks, and you go green again! Who's your new friend?"

"It wasn't my idea, and this is our newest Wyr-Soldier captive, Bruin. He might be friendly, however. He knew we were different, and didn't turn us in."

Maria nodded slowly.

"Okay, lets take him to a spare dormitory room. We can always put him in a cell later if he goes hostile on us."

.

Bruin's eyes flickered open and focused on Lyon's face.

"You're awake. Good, don't try to move just yet. Here drink this."

Bruin managed to drink the proffered glass of water before looking round him.

"Where are we?"

"We're at station Bravo-Sigma-seven, just behind the Maignot line."

Bruin stared at him.

"We took the Maignot Line?!"

Lyon shook his head.

"Bruin, You spotted something different about me and my friend. I think it is time that you learned enough of the truth to arrive at your own conclusions. My true name is Lyon McKensie. My friend Lan is really called Alan Redstorm. We're both humans, him literally, me legally. After we were caught up in the Wyr-master attack, we went undercover in the base you met us, trying to return to our unit."

Bruin frowned slightly as he added up the facts, then he smiled.

"Thank-you. At last, Ah can be mahself again."

Lyon glanced at him quizzically.

"For twenty years, ah have been hiding the fact that ah had no loyalty hypno-imprint imposed on me in the tubes, somehow the machine had broken and gone undetected, and the lab was destroyed just after ah was decanted. For twenty years, ah have been hiding mah difference, and now ah am free."

Lyon winced slightly.

"What?"

"Well, you are not exactly "free". Alan is standing guard outside the room, and another thirty armed soldiers are surrounding the building, waiting for orders, or an escape attempt. For now, though, you are free, but only in this building."

Bruin shrugged, then ponderously rose to his feet.

"As long as this place has a kitchen, ahm happy. There are so many recipes that ah've read about captured in normal-human libraries, and longed to try out. Is there a kitchen heyar?"

Lyon smiled.

"No, but I am sure that I can arrange for you to help with our Mess Hall catering if you want, providing that you pass all the Psych-tests."

Bruin nodded as he sat back down on the bed.

"Okay, just hurry. Mah claws are itching to do some good cooking, rather than the tasteless slop ah was forced to cook. Maybe a steak with garnish, or a lamb stew with dumplings..."

Lyon exited the room as Bruin muttered to himself. Outside, he joined Simon and Alan who were waiting for him.

"How's our guest?"

Lyon looked at him.

"Somehow he's non-imprinted, and not very loyal to the Wyrmasters. As long as he is allowed to cook whatever he wants to, he'll be happy."

Simon nodded slowly.

"I see. I'll make the arrangements to have one of my psychologists work alongside him. Is he any good?"

Alan laughed. "He managed to make standard rations delicious. He's good."

.

"...then suddenly he sprinted out from under a bush, glancing back at the other soldiers, and cannoned straight into me. If I hadn't been ready for it, he would have escaped, as it was, I was hard put to hold him. Garath and the others surrounded us, and Garath gave him a ration bar before scooping him up. Lyon fell asleep in Garath's arms, and Garath declared that he was adopting Lyon as his own, and he'd flatten anyone who disagreed.  
"The top brass raised a stink about it, but after Garath went public with his new son, and plans of what the top brass had intended to do, public opinion was enough to alter their plans, and accept Lyon as an honorary full-human. The rest of us stood by him the whole time, originally just out of loyalty to Garath, but soon because we liked Lyon so much."

Alan nodded slowly.

"That's an interesting story, and one I've never heard before. Lyon never told me about it, only that his first memory of Garath was of Garath giving him a ration bar and accepting him."

Simon nodded, glancing across to where Lyon was talking to Bruin.

"Lyon is a rather reserved person. He only talks when he has something to say. Probably comes of his entire adopted family all being in the generation before him."

Alan nodded slowly, turning to watch Lyon escort Bruin to the mess hall.

"He seems so... alone, somehow. I know that he is physically different, but he seems to hold himself apart from the rest of humanity."

Simon nodded slowly.

"He hasn't had an easy life. At school, well, Garath accepted a job as a teacher there, and managed to hold most of the hatred and prejudice in check, but Lyon is more sensitive than you would think. He has a tendency to withdraw rather than fight, since he knows how strong he is, but you must know how cruel kids can be."

Alan nodded as Lyon exited the mess hall and started to walk towards them.

"That makes sense. I wish I'd met him when he was younger, introduced him to my family earlier."

"Would they have accepted him then?"

Alan opened his mouth to answer, frowned, then shook his head.

"No, I don't think they would have. _I_ had to get used to him first, then persuade my family to give him a chance, to ignore their own prejudices."

Simon gave him a measuring glance, then changed the subject.

"So, will you two be joining me for lunch?"

Alan glanced at him, then across at Lyon, who waved acknowledgement and acceptance.

"How?"

Simon laughed.

"You forget, _I_ helped to raise Lyon. We all know the range of his remarkable hearing, and we often said that he could hear a mouse sneeze a mile away."

"I'm not quite that good."called Lyon as he approached. Simon laughed, then smiled as he remembered something.

"You'll be pleased to hear that we managed to free over a hundred kids this time, the full range. They're being transferred back to America for adoption and raising."

"Good." said Lyon as he stopped beside them. "I'm glad to hear it. What types are they?"

"Thirty cat-types, same in wolf and bear, and a dozen or so hawks. Looks like the Wyr-Lords are trying to create as varied an army as possible."

Alan frowned, then turned to Simon.

"I know that _we've_ been rescuing the kids, but what about the other units?"

Simon grinned.

"They've taken our lead. Last report I had, over a thousand kids had been rescued and transferred. It's stretching our manpower a little, bringing up that many, but if even ten percent choose to join the army, we'll be far stronger than we ever were."

.

Lyon dumped the mattress under the bed, then slumped down on the smooth surface of the metal slab. On the other side of the shared bunk-room, Alan reached out and hit the switch, allowing darkness to settle over both of them.

"Lyon?"

Lyon pricked up an ear.

"Yes?"

Alan sighed slightly.

"Lyon, once this war is over, if it ever is, what are your plans?"

"What are yours?" countered Lyon as his eyesight finished adjusting, allowing him to watch his friend closely. Alan stared up at the ceiling.

"I hope to marry soon, my girlfriend and I have a small plot of land on the reservation that we hope to build on. Once there, get a job with my dad, raise kids, settle down and never have to pick up a gun again."

"A laudable goal."

"Perhaps." Alan sighed and, despite the darkness preventing him from seeing much of anything, shot Lyon a glance. "And you still haven't answered my question."

Lyon stared thoughtfully at the ceiling before answering.

"I hadn't really considered anything outside the army. I'll probably stay on as an instructor, training others to defend freedom against those who would threaten it. If not, then I'll probably head for the mountains, and live there."

Lyon glanced over at Alan, and saw sadness on his face.

"Why so sad?"

"You don't really have anyone outside the army, do you."

The way that Alan said it made it clear that it wasn't a question.

"So what have _you_ got planned for me?"

Alan's mouth quirked in a brief smile.

"You know me too well, Lyon. I had hoped that you would come with me onto the reservation and act as honour-uncle to the kids I'll have."

Lyon looked at him again, then smiled briefly, knowing that the darkness hid his expression.

"I'll certainly consider it, my friend."

.

Lyon nodded at Bruin, who grinned back at him before turning to stir a large pot from which delicious aromas were emanating. Scooping up his tray, Lyon threaded through the mess hall to the table where Alan and Simon were sitting. Sitting down, he passed round the bowls of stew, the drinks and the plates of bread. Simon took a tentative spoonful of his stew, and his eyebrows rose towards his receding hair. Alan glanced at him, tasted his own stew, and then quickly took another spoonful.

"This tastes amazing!"

Lyon looked down at his own bowl, and used his spoon to taste it. Chewing, he looked up at the ceiling as he analysed the flavors and ingredients.

"Lamb, mint, carrots, potatoes, leeks."

Alan nudged him.

"Stop analyzing it and eat up, or I'll claim it."

As Lyon started to apply himself to the meal, Simon glanced up.

"So, do you know what's next for you two?"

Alan shook his head.

"As far as I know, it's back to the unit, and probably leading a counter-attack to force the Wyr-forces back."

Simon smiled mischievously, and Lyon fixed him with a gimlet stare. Undaunted, Simon reached out for for a piece of freshly-baked bread and started to mop up the remnants of his stew.

.

"What?!"

Both voices spoke in unison, and Alan and Lyon looked at each other, then back at Maria, who nodded confirmation.

"You heard correctly, as of today, you are both promoted to Captain, and are assigned to the Intelligence division, specializing in fieldwork. You have both shown an outstanding ability to infiltrate and escape from enemy-held territory, and Alan, you are currently the person best suited to work alongside Lyon, no offense, Lyon. General Trippan, I believe you both knew him as Captain, will brief you on your next mission."

Maria held out her hand, and Alan took it. As she shook hands with him and Lyon, she continued.

"I've been assigned back to America until my leg heals enough for me to return to combat, I've asked to be assigned to the base where all the rescued kids currently are so that I can aid in keeping an eye on them. When I return, I'll expect to see you both again, although hopefully not as green."

Alan smiled ruefully at her comment, while Lyon started to laugh.

.

"We have determined the approximate location of Draco's main forward base, and intend to launch an attack in seven days time. Before that, however, we need a team in place to perform primary recon, observing the base, and relaying information back to us for final planning."

Alan raised his hand, and Simon turned to look at him.

"Please tell me that I'm not going green again."

Simon grinned briefly, then his face resumed its serious expression.

"No, that isn't in the plan. You will be equipped as advance low-visibility recon scouts, with camouflage suits and extra survival gear. Among the equipment will be night-vision goggles for you, Alan, as you are both going to be moving at night. I already know about Lyon's nighttime visual acuity. During day, you will set up camp and hide from any patrols."

The map behind Simon flickered slightly as a targeting icon appeared.

"You will make your jump from a Stealth bomber modified for covert insertion, landing in this area. The base is approximately six klicks south from the L.Z, but is disguised from recon satellites and aerial recon, and partially concealed by the forest that surrounds it. We only discovered that it was there by accident, and need to know the exact location and size. If the standard base-pattern is held to, there should be a cloning Lab on-site. Since the Hypno-imprints are applied just prior to decanting, your secondary task is to pinpoint the lab for seizure and liberation."

Both Alan and Lyon nodded, and Simon indicated the bench to one side.

"That is the equipment you are taking. You are already familiar with most of it, but this is new."

Moving to a small bag, he opened it and pulled out a small disc with a number embossed on its surface.

"This is a targeting beacon. Should you require a precision strike, then place one of the beacons, activate it using this button here, and contact us, giving direction and distance from the beacon to the target. Should you triple-tap the button, we will target the beacon itself, and fire within five minutes. We can guarantee a missile-strike within one meter of the desired location since we will have multiple UAV's in the area. You will be provided with five beacons each, try to get them as close to the required targets as possible."

Placing the beacon back in the bag, he lifted up a streamlined machine-gun.

"This is also new, it is a silenced automatic gun with sniper capability. Magazine of sixty bullets, under-slung grenade launcher holding three grenades. Extra ammo is in the ammo pouches. These guns are expensive and come equipped with custom sights including night-vision and I.R. modes."

Placing the gun back on the bench, Simon turned to face them.

"Any questions? Good. You leave in three hours."

.

The countryside seemed to leap up at them. Lyon waited until he could see the individual ripples of the river before pulling the cord to deploy the parachute. The parachute unfolded above him, and his descent suddenly slowed. Pulling slightly on one rope, he angled down towards a relatively open area. A few seconds after he landed, a faint _thud_ and muffled curse announced Alan's landing. Lyon ignored him and scanned the surrounding bushes while Alan unclipped his parachute. Gathering his parachute up, Lyon backed up to stand by Alan.

"Undergrowth to the left perfect for stashing the 'chutes."

Alan nodded, and readjusted the night-vision goggles.

"This seems like Deja-vu, doesn't it."

Lyon nodded slowly, remembering their last parachute drop and the misadventure that ensued. Rearranging the low bush over the rolled-up camouflage-pattern parachutes, he pulled out his compass and glanced at the illuminated symbols before checking his watch.

"Seven hours till dawn, six klicks to cover. I'll take point."

Alan nodded and carefully looked round again before following him into the dense forest.

.

The sound of marching feet faded into the distance and under their mottled-green cover, Alan and Lyon exchanged glances, then Lyon moved his head slightly, peering out at the darkening forest. Alan tapped him on the shoulder.

"How long until nightfall?"

Lyon opened his mouth to answer, then froze as a sudden noise approached them. As Alan rolled out from under the sparse bush into the shelter of a small depression, Lyon slid under a nearby shrub with almost boneless grace. The two of them scanned the forest, then relaxed as a herd of wild boar galloped past. Seconds later, a pair of wolves dashed past in hot pursuit, intent on their quarry. Alan let out a quavering breath in relief and glanced over at the shrub where Lyon had taken shelter.

He wasn't there.

Before Alan could do more than tense to move, a paw descended on his shoulder.

"Dammit, don't do that to me!" he hissed as he turned, and froze as he found himself face-to-muzzle with a wolfman. The wolf-man grabbed him by his jacket and pulled him upright. Behind the wolfman, another three Wyr-soldiers loomed. The wolfman snarled, and then spoke.

"Who you?"

Alan stayed silent, and the wolfman lifted him in the air one-handed.

"Who you?"

Alan glanced up at the other Wyr-soldiers and blinked. He could have sworn that there had been three of them, but he could only see two. The Wolfman shook him, and his vision blurred. When he managed to re-focus, it was on the single Wyr-soldier standing behind the one holding him.  
The sound of a blade being removed from a sheath attracted his attention, and he swallowed as he felt the edge of a knife rest lightly against his groin. Glancing round for help, he failed to spot any movement, or indeed any other Wyr-soldiers. Suddenly Lyon seemed to materialize behind the wolfman, and his knife sliced into the top of the wolfman's neck, killing him so fast that he did not even realize that he was dying. Landing on his back, Alan looked up at Lyon in shock.

"How the hell did you do that?"

Lyon grinned as he pulled Alan back to his feet.

"Your grandfather gave me a few pointers the last time I was there. Now come on, we have a mission to accomplish."

As Lyon faded into the forest, Alan shook his head and moved after him.

.

Alan gripped the branch with a death-grip as Lyon leaned outwards, supported only by one foot and a set of claws embedded in the trunk. With his free hand, Lyon used a pair of binoculars to scan the base that filled the entire valley below them.

"Looks like a standard layout, but each building is four times the size of any base that we've heard about. HQ is in the exact center, predictable. The defenses are better, though, they've got multiple radomes and several clusters of anti-air ordnance."

Alan freed his right hand from the branch and grabbed at his own binoculars. As the base swam into sharper view, he scanned it, and frowned at what he didn't see.

"Lyon, where are the soldiers?"

Lyon glanced at Alan in confusion, then scanned the base quickly.

"There aren't any. What the hell is going on?"

Alan placed the binoculars back in the belt-pouch, and started to descend, feeling a slight sense of triumph at having beaten Lyon to the conclusion, but irritated at the problems that the conclusion suggested.

"It's a fake, Lyon, a trap. I'd guess that it's stuffed with explosives, ready to destroy anyone who tries to attack it. The real base must be hidden somewhere nearby."

Lyon dropped out of the tree, plummeting past Alan and landing in a semi-feral crouch on the rough ground. As Alan swung down from the lowest branch, Lyon started to move away from the decoy base.

"We need to find the real base, and alert HQ about the decoy."

"I think not." drawled a voice behind them. Alan and Lyon spun round to find a phalanx of heavily-armed lizardlike troops emerging from a trapdoor disguised by grass growing on it. Alan and Lyon glanced at each other, and then raised their hands.

.

Their hands bound behind them and clad only in their trousers, Alan and Lyon were propelled into a large hemispherical chamber. Around the edges, a multitude of Wyr-soldiers of various races intermingled with the occasional human worked at arrays of workstations, placed so that the operators faced the center of the room.  
Near the middle, an array of tables glowed with internal light, offering glimpses of maps and satellite imagery. Seated on a raised plinth, looking down on all the others was a large reptilian Wyr-being, clad in a long cloak and with a glint of fierce intelligence in her eyes. She looked over at them, and touched a control in the armrest of her throne. As it sank down to ground level, the being stood and strode forwards. The guards escorting Alan and Lyon jerked at their wrists, forcing them to stand still as the being approached.

"Well, when I was told that an enemy wyr-cat had been captured, I was intrigued. I had all the records checked, and I realized who I was dealing with."

The reptilian lady reached out with one scaled arm, and Alan's eyes widened at the line of spikes running from her wrist towards her elbow. Touching Lyon's face, the lady traced the line of his jaw, mirroring the line of the scar on her face, and then stepped back and smiled.

"Lyon McKensie, human by law, if not genetics. And wherever Lyon goes, his human friend follows, Alan Redstorm. The most effective team-up in the entire SAWS. I am truly honored to be graced with your company. I am OverGeneral Draco."

She cocked her head to one side slightly, then smiled, revealing a set of fangs.

"No witty responses? No comments about the futility of my actions? Not even an attempt to break free of your restraints to try and kill me? I am _almost_ disappointed."

Turning, she motioned for the guards to follow her as she strode back towards her podium. Seating herself onto her throne, she leaned back, examining them through thoughtful eyes.

"You present a problem, and opportunity. Lyon, your genetic structure has obviously created a superior warrior, but your actions indicate a mental agility incompatible with the Hypno-Imprints that secure the loyalty of my troops, making you unsuitable as a donor. Alan, as a pure-blood enemy human, you are not worthy of my attention, except for the fact that you've somehow managed to form a teamwork bond with a Wyr-soldier, a feat that intrigues me and makes me worry about what will happen when the first generation that you stole reaches an age to enter the military. I am sure that your side have had you under extensive analysis, hoping to create more teams of the potential that you have shown."

Leaning forward, she continued.

"As you intrigue me, I will not have you killed immediately. Instead, you will be placed in a special cell, to await my decision on your fates."

Acting on her languid wave, the guards grabbed Alan and Lyon and hustled them towards one of the exits.

.

"RAARRRGH!"

Lyon's yell echoed round the small suite as he slammed into the transparent screen that formed one entire wall of the main room. A pile of wrecked furniture bore testament to his previous attempts to break the unscratched barrier. Staggering backwards, he glared at the barrier, and stalked back towards the center of the room.

"Enough, Lyon. We can't escape, yet."

Lyon glared at Alan, then slumped slightly, accepting the truth of the statement. Alan smiled wryly, and gestured at the other rooms.

"Bedroom with two single beds, bathroom with all mod-cons, kitchen with electrical appliances, main room and no sign of any spy equipment, except for that damn window. If we weren't prisoners in this damned underground base, I'd think we were in a five-star hotel."

"High praise indeed."

They turned to see Draco come to a stop on the other side of the window. Alan glanced up, spotting the array of microphones and speakers that connected to the array on the other side, allowing conversation without physical contact. Lyon snarled, and stalked to the other side of the room while Alan moved towards the barrier.

"I apologize for Lyon's behavior. He's not at his best when confined."

Draco nodded in a regal fashion.

"I understand perfectly, Alan. I doubt that I would be as composed as you if our situations were reversed. Are you comfortable?"

Alan nodded wryly.

"Food, drink, shelter. All we need are some books and music, and it would be a soldiers paradise."

Draco laughed, and smiled.

"You are incredible, pure-blood. You almost make me forget my envy of you."

In response to Alan's raised eyebrow, Draco continued to speak as she settled herself into a chair.

"I was envious of humans ever since I was hatched, or decanted as you humans say. I am built to lead, I was created to conquer, it is a fundamental desire on my part that I am aware of, but cannot overcome. I obey my creators, and lead armies to seize lands and resources for them. I may be closer to you humans in terms of mental flexibility, but there are still actions I cannot contemplate, thoughts that I am not allowed to think. My loyalty is absolute, my actions and fate ordained by science.  
"You on the other hand are truly free, as are those that you seized from my masters. I envy you for that, more than you can ever imagine."

Alan nodded from the comfort of the chair that he had dragged over while listening to her, and steepled his fingers.

"Please satisfy my interest, who are your masters? I was under the impression that you were the ultimate leader."

Draco sighed, and leaned back, raising one hand to absently caress the small scar on her right cheek.

"You ask a question that I cannot answer. I want to, but I cannot. It is part of my programming."

Alan nodded, his mind busy.

"You say you cannot answer, but surely you must be able to modify your commands, else you would not be able to speak of those who command you."

Draco shook her head, and rose to leave.

"No, Alan, even I, with my advanced development, cannot alter what I am. I am a warlord, and I revel in it. Perhaps soon, you will join me and understand."

At the exit, she paused, and glanced back at the two prisoners.

"If you leave the wreckage of Lyon's escape attempts by the portal, the furniture will be replaced. Try not to break it again. See you after lunch tomorrow"

.

Lyon and Alan eyed the Grizzly wyr-soldier sergeant as he moved towards the portal, carrying a covered tray and escorted by two gun-carrying Wyr-soldiers, a lion-man and lizardman. Something in the way that the grizzly walked triggered recognition in Lyon's mind, and he frowned as he and Alan obeyed the hand-motion of the Lion-man and moved to the rear of the room. The portal hissed open, and the three jailers stepped through. Alan suddenly hissed in surprise and the grizzly dropped his tray, grabbed his escorts and snapped their necks in a single movement. Looking up, he winked, and Lyon spoke in a voice filled with shock.

"Bruin?"

"Aye, in the flesh'n fur. Alan, time for you ta go green, Lyon, help me tae get these stripped'n intae th'beds."

Alan snagged the now-familiar bottle from the air, and retreated to the bathroom as Lyon grabbed the body of the dead lizardman and followed the disguised Panda-man.

.

As the three Wyr-soldiers stepped through a side portal into the main control room, a sudden stir on the far side marked the appearance of a raging Draco. Ignoring the orders and commands directed at the troopers surrounding her, the Lizardman covertly placed a small disc behind one of the work stations before the trio moved towards the main exit.

"Grizzly!"

The three Wyr-soldiers stopped, and the sergeant turned, and saluted.

"Take a full squad and seal off the main exit, don't let anyone out until you hear differently from me!"

The sergeant saluted again and moved towards the exit, his two lieutenants following in his wake. Draco turned away to give fresh instructions, then paused. She frowned, then turned just as the three stepped through the exit, the cat-man turning slightly to let another Wyr-soldier into the room. Her eyes widened with shocked recognition, and she pointed to the trio, her voice cutting through the hubbub.

"Stop them!"

.

The three escapees pounded up the main corridor, dropping beacons and ignoring the tumult that echoed behind them as a mob bayed at their heels. Slamming through the squad at the entrance, they glanced into the sky, and dived sideways.  
The triumphant cry of the mob changed into howls of terror as three missiles dropped out of the sky and raced straight down the corridor, igniting the very flesh of the soldiers thronging the tunnel. In near-perfect triangular formation despite the narrowness of the tunnel, they raced down at half the speed of sound, and accelerating.  
One missile hit a protruding sign, spun into a wall and exploded, but the other two outraced the explosion and flashed into the central control room.

Draco had just enough time to feel a final spurt of emotion before the explosions removed her from the mortal plane.

.

Lyon staggered to his feet as the earth stopped shaking, and turned to Bruin.

"How the hell did you get here?"

Bruin grinned toothily.

"When you failed to report, Simon agreed to let me stage a rescue. I disguised myself, infiltrated the base and relayed the info to the others. When they told me they were going to destroy the base, I told them to wait until I'd rescued you two."

Alan nodded slowly.

"Bruin, we owe you."

"I'll collect someday, never fear."


	6. Breakthrough

Alan looked back at the jeep as his two friends climbed out. The larger of the two looked at the house and grinned. Before he could speak, however, he was interrupted by the shrill cries of a near-mob of children who flooded out the door.

"Lyon! Alan!"

Lyon and Alan strode forwards and impartially returned hugs, handshakes and hand-slaps until the arrival of three adults calmed the incipient riot. Shaman Greystorm, Blackhorse and Elissa moved forwards and the children parted before them. Elissa darted forwards and hugged both Alan and Lyon before stepping back and shaking her head in a mock-rueful fashion.

"Lyon, every time you bring my son home, he's green. Why can't you ever bring him back with his normal color."

Greystorm bowed slightly, then turned his attention to Bruin, standing next to the jeep in an attempt to remain inconspicuous, an attempt negated by his sheer size. Alan followed his gaze, and smiled.

"Hey, Bruin, get over here! Mum, dad, grandfather, this is Bruin. He risked his life to rescue Lyon and myself after our last mission went sour on us. Don't worry, he's a big softy who enjoys cooking."

Blackhorse stepped forward and nodded to Bruin.

"I greet you, Bruin Standing-Bear. I thank you for your actions and offer the hospitality of my home."

Bruin smiled, carefully not showing his teeth.

"Aye, ah'm honored, father o' Alan. Ah place mah paws at yer service."

.

"You never fail to amaze us with your new friends, Alan."

Alan pulled his girlfriend closer and gave her a hug.

"Come on, Lara. You already know Lyon, why should Bruin be a surprise?"

Bruin looked up from where half a dozen children were climbing over him, and winked before reaching up and removing a child who was trying to grab his ears. Lara watched the child laugh, and leaned against Alan.

"Lyon is Lyon, Alan. Everyone round here knows about him, and about how you and he are brothers in all but blood, and the others like him are spoken for by Greystorm. Bruin is new, though. I know you trust him, but the rest of us have to get used to him."

"Looks like the youngsters already have."

Lara glanced over at Lyon, who had offered the comment despite being engaged in a ferocious game of chess against a nearly full-grown Richard, with Greystorm sitting by, offering the occasional word of advice to his grandson. Lyon winked at her and continued.

"They don't suffer from preconceptions like we adults do, and to them everything is new and miraculous. Richard, Check."

Greystorm stopped nodding in agreement and frowned at the board as Richard interposed a rook between his king and the bishop that was threatening it. Richard looked over at Bruin and smothered a laugh at the sight of the ursine looking round comically for a child who was perched on his shoulders. Greystorm also looked up, but at Lyon instead, and started to speak.

"You might be pleased to learn that twelve of the wyr-children that you and Alan rescued have become full members of the tribe on my recommendation. They are learning quickly and have reached developmental teenager-hood. I am overseeing their interactions than none may try to hurt them."

Lyon grinned and reached for his remaining rook.

"It's good to know that they're being looked after so well. Check again."

Richard moved a knight, and then turned as the door opened, and a cat-like girl entered. He smiled, and stood as Lyon looked across in surprise.

"Tigre! I didn't expect you tonight."

Tigre smiled at Richard as she stepped into his arms. Hugging him, she looked at Lyon, whose mouth was agape in shock. Richard disentangled himself, looked at Lyon, and smiled even more broadly.

"Lyon, meet Tigre Darkwind, my girlfriend and fiancée. Tigre, this is Lyon McKensie, my honor-brother and a true hero, despite his current expression."

Lyon blinked, then recovered. Standing, he bowed to Tigre.

"I am honored to meet you, Tigre Darkwind. You have grown since the day you were rescued."

"The honor is mine, Lyon, and thank you."

Greystorm pulled up a chair, and Tigre gracefully sat down, holding Richard's hand. She looked down at the chessboard and winced as Lyon reached out and moved his queen, removing Richard's knight and placing the king in check again.

"I think that you have lost this one, Richard."

Richard nodded, a rueful expression on his face, and tipped over his king.

.

Bruin stretched as the base came into view and Alan slowed down as they approached the main gate. The sentry looked at them, and then opened the gate without asking for I.D.

"That was lax of him."

Lyon glanced at Alan as he replied.

"Alan, Bruin and I are the two most recognizable SAWS troops, and you are the pure-bred human who is most likely to be with us. Do you really think that _we_ could possibly be counterfeited convincingly?"

Bruin chuckled from the rear seat and Alan smiled ruefully as he brought the jeep to rest in its assigned parking space.

"Alright, but when remember that within the next couple of months, the new ones will start to become eligible for entry, like Tigre for instance, they were grown for longer than you in those damned tubes. When that happens, I.D. will become even more important."

"Indeed."

All three of them braced to attention as Simon Trippan walked round the corner.

"Sir, I didn't know that you had been assigned back to America."

Simon smiled at his nephew.

"I know. I caught the tail end of your conversation, and most of the first generation is already in basic training, they volunteered when they were told how the Wyr-Masters treat their troops. I'm on my way to oversee their training, as I'm one of the most qualified people to do so. Maria is already there."

Bruin frowned.

"So who's in charge in Europe?"

.

"Uncle Mitsuragi!"

The General standing at the foot of the ramp smiled and held out his hands. Lyon bounded down the ramp, wrapped his arms around him and lifted him in a hug, before remembering where he was, putting him down, stepping back and bowing to the diminutive Japanese-American.

"General Osata Mitsuragi, may I introduce Captain Alan Redstorm and Commander Bruin."

Mitsuragi's face creased in a wide grin, and he accepted Alan's and Bruin's salutes before turning back to face Lyon.

"It is good to see you again, Lyon-san, even if you still have not learned to restrain yourself. I am honored to meet your team-mates. Redstorm, Bruin, if you will excuse us, Lyon-san and I have some history to catch up on."

Alan moved away from the plane as Lyon and Mitsugi moved off, talking to each other in low voices. Bruin loomed beside him, and chortled.

"That lucky cat, relatives everywhere, in all sorts o' shapes 'n' sizes."

Alan looked up at him.

"Lyon deserves it, Bruin. I know you had a hard life, but so did he, and it may have been harder for him."

Bruin nodded.

"Aye, at least ah was only different on t'inside, Lyon was different on t' outside, an' dats _much_ harder tae hide."

.

"We have confirmation that Overgeneral Draco is still alive."

Alan and Lyon both jerked in astonishment, but Bruin jolted so much that his chair, already near its limit, collapsed into a pile of wreckage. The others paid no attention.

"How?!"

Mitsugi shrugged.

"We do not know, but the evidence is beyond doubt."

Behind him, a screen lit up with a picture of Draco striding through the ruins of an army camp, surrounded by a bodyguard of various Wyr-species. Lyon stood and moved closer to the screen.

"No scar."

As Mitsurugi looked at him questioningly, Alan and Bruin both joined him, looking closely at the image.

"He's right, there's no scar on her right cheek."

"But what does that mean?"

Lyon stepped backwards, growling.

"She's a clone. I bet that whoever is truly behind the Wyr-Masters have a whole line of her in various stages of development. Whenever one is killed, another is dispatched to take her place."

Mitsuragi nodded in belated realization.

"That would explain why we've apparently failed to kill her so many times, we have, but there's always a new model waiting to move in."

Lyon turned to face his uncle.

"You know that we three are the best to go after the base that produces all the copies of her, can you tell us where it is?"

Mitsuragi frowned.

"I will contact the Pentagon, perhaps they can give us an idea of where it may be located."

.

"Germany, east of Berlin."

Mitsuragi looked up from the map, his face creased in a frown.

"Your news came as a thunderbolt to the Pentagon, with it they finally figured out what was happening. The original project was a covert USSR operation, originally a project to enhance the bio-functions of a human by infusing animal RNA and DNA into adult test subjects, but with bad results. When they tried another way, infusing embryos with modified animal DNA and RNA, they created hybrids that could be viable soldiers, but the USSR crumbled at that point.  
"The operation was officially shut down, but the scientists managed to raise funds to continue refining the project by making and selling weapons. With the development of artificial wombs that they could force-grow the subjects in, they obviously decided that it was time to create a new empire, with themselves at the head."

Mitsuragi held up a disc.

"The notes that the Russian Stronghold provided on the project indicate that the genetic modifications can be transferred in active or passive states to sexually-created progeny. In short, they were designed to be inter-fertile with humans, even the avian- and reptile- variants."

He paused and winked at Lyon.

"That means that there is a chance I might have some grand-nieces and nephews to look after in the future. However, it also means that if they decide to use humans as breeding fodder, we will be unable to rescue them as easily."

Alan and Lyon looked at each other as a single thought occurred to them, and Bruin suddenly collapsed in gales of laughter. Mitsuragi raised an eyebrow in query as Alan tried to disguise his laughter as a bout of coughing.

"Alan's brother is romantically involved with Tigre Darkwind, one of the first rescuees. There is every reason to believe that they are going to get married, but we thought that they would have to adopt. I wonder if they know this."

As Lyon explained, Mitsuragi's other brow rose.

"I will recommend that the knowledge is spread to those who should know."

.

The countryside seemed to leap up at them. Lyon waited until he could see the individual dots of the rabbits in the field before pulling the cord to deploy the parachute. The parachute unfolded above him, and his descent suddenly slowed. Pulling slightly on one rope, he angled down towards a relatively open area. A few seconds after he landed, a faint _thud_ and muffled curse announced Alan's landing, while a third, heavier _thud_ and groan marked Bruin's re-acquaintance with the solid ground. Above them, the modified stealth bomber arced round to head back to base, its position betrayed only by the occlusion of the stars in the night sky.

"Position?"

Alan triggered the GPS module as Lyon and Bruin rolled up the parachutes and placed them underneath the hedgerow.

"We are six kilometres south-west of the target."

Bruin loomed out of the darkness, night-vision goggles allowing him to look round at the quiet countryside.

"Looks too quiet for my liking, but no sign of any patrols."

Lyon shook his head.

"This is their most secret base, remember? They wouldn't want to draw attention to it by huge numbers of troops massing in the area. We can expect irregular patrols until we reach the area of the base, then we'll hit the outer perimeter. We can expect it to be well-guarded."

Alan nodded, and fingered his freshly-shaved scalp.

"Lyon, when this is over, do you think we can take a trip where I don't have to go green?"

.

The tractor trundled past, towing the trailer piled high with bales of hay. Lyon frowned, and lifted his binoculars for a better look.

"What is it?"

Lyon examined the load of the trailer, and inhaled as a series of straight lines seemed to leap out at him.

"That's not a load of hay, it's a troop transporter!"

Bruin peered through his own custom binoculars, two telescopes set in a frame, and swore quietly.

"You're right. Good eyes, Lyon. Down!"

All three ducked down into the ditch under the hedge that they had chosen to use for cover as another tractor drove past, with an identical load in tow. As it passed, Lyon quickly threw a small magnetic beacon onto the underneath of the trailer. The beacon adhered, and a small device on Alan's belt lit up. Alan glanced at Lyon.

"They're heading in the direction of the base, and from how they bounced, they're empty. We can use them to guide us directly to the base."

Alan leaned against the side of the ditch as a third tractor drove past.

"Why not just jump onto the last tractor in the convoy?"

Bruin shook his head.

"No, too much chance we'll get caught. Lyon's got the right idea. Now, let's catch some zee's. We'll move out at dusk, yes?"

At Lyon's nod, Bruin closed his eyes.

.

As Bruin and Alan trekked up the wooded hill behind him, Lyon gazed at the farm spread out before him. Glancing at the screen of the locator, he looked out once more, deducing which shed the tractors had been parked in. The farm itself appeared deserted, except for a few figures on a slow patrol of the border. Although the figures seemed to be proceeding in a lazy, haphazard manner, Lyon noted that no portion of the perimeter was out of their sight for more than a handful of seconds, and that each of them caught sight of those before and after them at least once every ten minutes. As the leaves rustled in the breeze, Lyon tried to figure out what was teasing his sense of wrongness in the dawn-light.

"Lyon, why do you think the ducks aren't moving on the pond?"

Lyon jolted as realization dawned, and swung his binoculars to the pond located just by the smallest of the outbuildings. As he watched, the ducks and swans started to move, describing precisely-delineated courses on the ponds surface, a surface that was not rippling in the breeze.

"Well spotted Alan, I think you've located one of the entry portals to the base."

The front door of the farmhouse opened, and a squad of Wyr-soldiers emerged, and started to move towards the border of the farm. Alan looked up at the trees clustered close together.

"I think that it's time to make a nest."

Bruin pulled out a coil of green-colored rope from his pack and handed one end to Lyon, who nodded, took it between his teeth and used his claws to climb up to above the lower canopy of branches.

.

The red tinge of dusk suffused the horizon, and Lyon and Alan dropped silently to the ground. A moment later, Bruin lowered himself from a branch and dropped the final meter, landing with a grunt. They exchanged glances, then without speaking they carefully descended the wooded hill, and reached the border of the farm. Lyon moved forwards on all fours while Bruin and Alan waited, then grinned with triumph. Pulling a toolkit out of his bag, he carefully attached a loop of cable to the wire running along the top of the fence, then cut the wire. Using his jacket as insulation, he climbed over the fence and motioned for Alan and Bruin to follow, then pulled out a small double-ended crocodile clip from his kit. Carefully, he used it to restore the wire to its original position.

Rejoining Alan and Bruin, he motioned to a small bush near the pond. Keeping low, they crept over to it, reaching it just as motors started to sound. Before them, the surface of the pond lifted up and moved sideways, revealing a ramp. Seconds later, three tractors drove up the ramp and turned towards the exit, each tractor pulling a heavily-laden trailer disguised as a cargo of hay. As the ramp started to close, the three of them darted down the ramp, rushing down to the edge of the wall, and flattening themselves against it. Lyon peered round, then motioned for the others to follow him into the underground parking-lot. Making their way to a corner, the ducked down behind a disc-shaped tank. Lyon peered through the hatch of the tank, and grinned. Reaching in, he pulled out half a dozen uniforms of various sizes.

"Good thing I'm already green." muttered Alan.

.

The three Wyr-soldiers moved purposefully through the base, aided by the fact that the basic layout was virtually identical to every other base. Going into the mess-hall, they joined the queue for food. Taking the trays of food, they moved to a corner table, and sat down. The lizardman picked up his fork, and whispered a question.

"When do we move?"

"Tonight." muttered the lion-man, and the panda-man nodded. Around them, the other Wyr-soldiers concentrated on their food.

.

"My word!"

Alan and Lyon strained to see through the air-vent to see what had surprised Bruin. Bruin moved slightly aside, to let the other two see into the room that should have been the central command post. Although the room had a large number of consoles round the edge, only a few of them were being used, and those by humans. Of the dozen humans present, three of them were female. Half of the humans, however, were congregated in the center of the room, where the main fittings had been replaced by a set of large couches and pillowed recesses arrayed around a throne-like chair on a dias. Serving the humans were over thirty Wyr-soldiers, of which a dozen were recognizable as Draco-clones, recognition made easier by the abbreviated clothing of the Wyr-soldiers. Alan let out a grunt of disgust.

"Look at them, Lyon. The bastards have become decadent, creating slaves to serve them. What do you want to bet that they bed them as well?"

Before Lyon could answer, another human entered the room, fastening his top and followed by two more Draco clones. Ignoring the servants, he headed over to a monitor, and started to manipulate the data it showed. Moments later, all the servants turned to face one of the doors and dropped to their knees while the humans rose to stand at attention. The door opened, and a small human woman strode through. As the door closed behind her, Lyon caught a glimpse of a minotaur lying on a bed. She strode forwards, and started to give orders in Russian. The other humans saluted, and moved to various consoles round the room.

"What did she say?"

"No idea."

The woman moved to the chair in the center of the room, and sat on it. A hand-motion summoned one of the servants, who offered her a glass of drink. Taking it and waving off the wyr-servant, the woman pressed a button on her chair, which started to slowly rotate.

"Hey, I know who that woman is!"

Lyon and Bruin glanced at Alan.

"Her name's Rose Marianna, she's an English scientist who defected to the USSR for ideological reasons. The CIA lost track of her when the the operation was officially closed down, she's a specialist in hybridization technology."

Bruin frowned in concentration as he mentally reviewed the briefing papers, then nodded in agreement. Before he could continue, a sudden shout echoed round the chamber. All three of them strained to make out the image on the screen, and Lyon winced as he saw that it was of the three of them entering the base. Rose got out of her chair and moved over to the screen, staring at it. She glared at one of the scientists, then grabbed a microphone from the console. Pressing the button, her voice echoed through the base.

"Condition red, intruders have infiltrated the base. Full security lock-down. Targets are renegade Lion-man, renegade Panda-man, renegade Lizard-man. All Lion, Panda and Lizardmen report to quarters immediately for identification procedures. All other units, check the base for any who are not complying with orders."

Lyon sighed, and turned to the other two.

"I see no choice."

"Agreed."

Bruin nodded. "Then let's do it."

.

Rose Marianna glared at the scientist responsible for security of the Alpha Base, it was his duty to ensure that the base was protected from this sort of thing. Only his previous record prevented her from ordering his death.

"I want to know who they are, but more importantly, I want to know _where_!"

Just as she finished her command, the air-vent above her was ripped from the wall by the impact of one of the three intruders, followed by the other two. Reaching for her gun, Rose dived out of the way of the descending Lion-man, as she did so she recognized him from a report that she had read years ago. Pulling out the gun, she aimed at the Lizard-man, only for him to dodge at a speed beyond that of any Lizard-man that she knew about. The scientist behind him, however, didn't fair so well, and the bullet hit him in the shoulder, spinning him to the floor.

"Get them!"

At her order, the wyr-servants moved to capture the three, and Rose managed to get to her feet and sprint to her quarters. Opening the door, she was jerked backwards by a furry paw belonging to the Panda seizing the back of her dress. Ahead of her, the Minotaur looked up, brow creased in surprise.

"Kill him!"

Given an order he could understand, the Minotaur charged at the Panda, dropping his horns down as he charged. Rose shed her dress and dodged her charging slave as he thundered past her. Ignoring her state of undress, she opened the secret passage behind the bed, and dropped through it. Sealing it behind her, she yanked at a lever in the wall before turning and fleeing for her life.

.

Bruin dropped the empty dress, grabbed the Minotaur by his horns and threw him across the room, flattening six other servants. Moving to catch Rose, he saw her drop down a trapdoor, which closed behind her. Seconds later, red lights started to flash.

"This ain't good"

As Bruin charged back into the main control room, a pre-recorded voice spoke over the tannoy system.

"All staff, self-destruct is activated. One minute countdown. All staff evacuate, this order takes precedence over all other orders."

The scientists looked up in horror, and then moved en-masse towards one of the exits. Lyon waved frantically.

"Follow them!"

The three of them charged after the scientists as they raced through the base, running upwards towards the exit, following the scientists as the voice counted down. As it reached the final ten seconds, they burst out into the open, and sprinted straight for the hill. Behind them, the ground started to shake, and the ersatz farm vanished in an explosion of earth, rocks and the bodies of Wyr-soldiers killed by the explosives. Lyon and Alan dived for the ground, with Bruin landing on top of them to shield them from the debris that was raining down. After what seemed like an eternity, the falling debris lessened, and Bruin rolled off them, groaning.

"Bruin, are you okay?"

"Mah right leg's busted, an'me left paw's hurt, otherwise ah'm fine."

Lyon pulled Bruin up to rest on his shoulder, and looked at Alan, who nodded. Pulling out his radio, he activated it.

"Team one to base, commence clean-up. Base is destroyed."

"Acknowledge, team one. Operation started the instant that the base started to empty, task-force will be with you in five minutes."

Alan returned the radio to its holster, and moved to help Lyon half-carry Bruin towards the top of the hill. At the top, they looked up at the sound of approaching planes.

"Here come the cavalry, the mission's over."

"Yes, for you!"

As Alan reflexively stepped backwards from the armed figure who had appeared almost from nowhere, Lyon acted instinctively, pushing Bruin over and dashing forwards to tackle the figure. Alan tried to steady Bruin, but only managed to slow his fall. Seizing Bruin's gun, he turned, just in time to hear a short burst of gunfire, and see Lyon falling to his knees. Another burst of gunfire sounded, and something plucked at his shirt, but his attention was arrested by the knowledge of what had just happened.

"NOOOOO!"

The figure ducked down as Alan unleashed a three-round burst at it, and dashed away, dropping into a hole in the ground. Alan sprinted to the edge of the hole, unloaded the entire magazine down it, then pulled out a grenade. Pulling the pin, he threw it down the hole, just as a portion of the hillside exploded outwards, and a jet-plane was hurled into the air. Catching a glimpse of Rose at the controls, Alan pulled out his handgun and emptied it at the departing plane, ignoring the burning plume of fire which marked the grenade's explosion.

"Alan..."

Somehow the whisper penetrated his rage, and Alan ran over to Lyon, who was lying on the ground. Turning him over, he tried not to look at the mortal wounds cratering his friend's chest, but concentrated on holding him.

"She got me..."

"I know, Lyon."

Alan's vision blurred as tears ran down his cheeks, but he ignored them, like he ignored the wound in his side.

"Alan, we… we did good."

"I'm sorry, Lyon. She got away."

"Yes, but we… we destroyed her base. That will slow her down. Next time we'll get her. Next time…"

Alan held the lifeless body of his friend as paratroopers landed around them like falling blossom.


	7. Epilogue

The ranks of new soldiers stood tall and proud, a mixture of human and those once called Wyr-soldiers, and were still called that in other lands. The sergeant, a bulky panda-like humanoid, stalked along in front of them before turning to the general and saluting.

"All present for the speech, sir."

The general nodded and moved to the podium. Standing tall, he looked down at the assembled ranks in front of him.

"Welcome to SAWS, troopers. I am General Redstorm, assigned to turn you from standard troopers into elite units to aid in tracking down the terrorist forces still loyal to the fugitive geneticist Rose Marianna. Those of you who have demonstrated overt racism or sexism have been removed, the rest of you have proven yourself worthy of being a candidate for SAWS. The mission profile will require you to undertake actions in small teams, mixed to make the best of your abilities. Each of the base-humans will be partnered with an enhanced, this policy is the result of a series of successful tests. For now, Master-Sergeant Bruin has your bunk-room assignments."

Alan stepped back as Bruin started to reel off a list of names.

.

"Some civilians to see you, sir." rumbled Bruin, and Alan looked up from his desk with a blank expression, an expression that transformed into a smile when Richard and Tigra entered. Standing up, he embraced his brother and sister-in-law, then waved them over to a pair of couches.

"I thought that you two were still in hospital."

Richard shook his head.

"No, we went home yesterday. We visited the graveyard on our way here today."

Tigra smiled, and lifted the basket that she held. Alan and Bruin looked into it, and smiled at the sight of the small newborn cat-like child asleep inside.

"His name is Lyon Garath Redstorm." said Tigra softly. "We think that Lyon would have liked that."

Alan nodded, his eyes filled with tears. Behind them, Bruin smiled, ignoring the tears flowing down his own face.


End file.
